


The Lies We Told

by White_Rabbits_Clock



Series: Enough [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Alfheim, Amnesia, Asgard, Emotional Manipulation, Evil Odin (Marvel), Gen, Injured Loki, Insomnia, Jötunn Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki Redemption, Loki's Kids, Loki-centric, M/M, Magic-Users, Mental Breakdown, Mind Control, Physical Torture, Psychological Torture, Self Confidence Issues, Svartalheim, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture, Vanaheim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-12-12 21:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11745765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rabbits_Clock/pseuds/White_Rabbits_Clock
Summary: A month after the Battle of New York, Tony Stark leaves the empty Stark tower to investigate an anomaly at the sight Thor's hammer had once rested. When he gets there, he tumbles through a rift in our world and into a new one, where he finds an amnesiac Loki bound to a group of psychopathic plants and heavily injured.





	1. Post Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Please have mercy on me. This is my first frost-iron fic, and I haven't written much in the way of the Avengers. Comments and concrits are, as always, greatly appreciated. Inspiration for this work is A Friend For a Week (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5183057).

Chitari carapaces littered the streets and the buildings amidst the wreckages of their weapons and the city. Emergency workers moved carefully through it all, seeking out trapped men, women, children, and animals with their own scent hounds. People screamed and cried and sat there huddled in the dust, wondering what would happen now. 

One such person, though he was neither covered in dust nor pondering his next course of action, was Loki. He was sitting up in the indentation Hulk had made with his body, eyes sightless, face slack, looking entirely different from the man he had been just moments ago. He did not acknowledge the looming monster of a man that had put him in such a state. 

He did not notice when the other Avengers arrived. He did not even seem to see his brother, for all he had a strong aversion to the bigger Aesir.

On the video, the Tony of four weeks ago looked to Thor.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I do not know. Though friend Hulk is certainly strong, he has not the physical injuries to denote this sort of behavior,” Thor said. Again and again, Tony hears the audio play from the hidden speakers in his room. Again and again, he plays the video over and over again.

“Well, I guess we should go ahead with the plan,” the voice of Captain America says.

“I don’t like it,” Clint objects slowly as he notches a different arrow from the one he already had out and moves around in a circle to Loki’s other side. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to get the god’s attention. Loki did not move. The tip of the arrow moved a bit closer so that it was just barely touching his cheek. 

“You think he’s… what? Sort of consciously comatose?”

“I believe he is lying,” Thor says as he takes out the magic inhibiting handcuffs and moves to capture both of Loki’s wrists. Still, Loki does not react.

“I shall take him home like this, then, and we will see how long he holds his silence in my father’s court.” The Tony onscreen lifts his facemask.

“You sure about that, Jock?” Tony asks, running his tongue over the insides of his teeth contemplatively. “Cause that doesn’t look fake.”

“Loki is a master manipulator. I would take all that he says and does with a grain of salt. Besides, father is fair. If he does not have the truth out of him by asking, he will use his will as the Allfather to-” abruptly, Loki twisted his head around to look Thor dead in the eye, not back online yet, but not comatose, either.

“Beware Asgard, brother. There are demons that hide in plain sight.” a look of anger crosses Thor’s face and he quickly pulls up on Loki’s bound hands, forcing his younger brother to either scramble up or have his arms yanked out of their sockets.

“You betray the crown, and claim it evil. You betray the family, and declare us blind. You faked your death-”

“It was not faked-”

“Only to return and meet out death on innocents. Be silent, or you shall find your mouth sewn shut for your lies. It may yet happen.”

“The funny thing about lies, brother, is that I only tell them when they are useful.”

“There is something deeply wrong with you, brother,” Thor growls at him as he bodily drags Loki to the broken window. “But the Allfather will help. He always does.” At this promise, Loki seems to panic.

“Take me back to Asgard and your questions will never get answers!” he shouts as he starts to pull away.

“There are others who can answer these questions I have,” Thor says as he stops moving to fight Loki’s resistance. 

“Perhaps, but you won’t find them in Asgard. There is something going on there and I don’t remember what!” Thor turns and tackles Loki. The smack of a jaw against concrete is sickening, even when it is coming from a homicidal maniac.

An invisible ring on Thor’s finger glows as he reaches to the side. His hand disappears and reappears with ankle cuffs and chains. 

“Hulk?” the giant places his foot on Loki’s upper back, keeping him in place so that Thor may work unhindered.

“You cannot avoid every punishment with wild stories. The lives of midgardians might not be much in Asgard, but there is still treason to consider.” At this point, Loki truly begins to lose it as he writhes on the ground, trying to avoid the cuffs.

“They’ll take my mind away again, and then they’l try and make me theirs! Justice is justice- I understand that it cannot be avoided, but this will just keep happening! Over and over until you get it through your head that Odin is not the father you think he is.” All this is muffled by the foot. Thor turns back around and reaches into the pocket dimension again to come out with a gag.

“And I’ll bring you back until you learn that conquest will gain you nothing.”

“No, you won’t,” Loki says so quietly that Tony didn’t hear this the first time around. He’d had to enhance the audio a bit to get it in the video. In a puff of green smoke, Loki disappears and reappears in the open window. “Because by the time you do, he will be prepared to get you too, oh king to be, and then you won’t remember anything” he hisses out. He spares one quick, wandering glance to the assembled group, nods, and disappears. The video ends with Thor standing up, scoffing, and spitting where his brother’s indentation was up until a week ago.

 


	2. Hamster Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony considers the data

 

“Jarv, what do we know about Loki and Thor?”

“We know Loki is a trickster god, Master Stark, and while there is plenty of lore concerning him, it’s reliability is sketchy at best. Master Odinson is much cooler in temperature than Master Thor, and it appears that, aside from the staff, Master Odinson has no chosen weapon along the same vein as Mjolnir. We know that Master Loki’s eyes were blue during his time as a rising warlord, and that when he was sitting and staring into space, they were green. It is entirely possible that this entire exchange is an elaborate fabrication, but the brainscans of Mater Odinson altered between the time of his confrontation with Hulk, the time he sat staring into space, and the altercation with Master Thor afterwards. The panic Master Odinson displayed was real, and, though the data may be inaccurate given his species, he showed no signs of lying.” Jarvis falls silent. 

It just doesn’t add up. It couldn’t add up without there being at least some truth to what Loki was saying.

“How smart is Loki?”

“His plan was extremely flawed, Master Stark, but the parts that appeared to go to plan suggest that he is highly skilled in strategizing as well as time management, disguise, and combat, all proof of which I have already compiled for you, sir.”

“Let me see it.” They have been over this before. Every night for a month now, Tony has been watching all the video feeds of Loki he could get his hands on. What he’d said just did not match up with his entire persona. It was too obvious to be a lie. Tony believed Loki, and, like all good scientists with a hypothesis, he took his conclusions and tried to disprove them over and over. 

But this data has been running around his head like a hamster in a wheel for a month, and no discrepancy has made itself known. Which means that, insofar as Tony can see, Loki is (a) missing a large portion of his memories (b) knows at least part of the reason why, and (c) won’t get a chance to uncover the rest of his memories if it requires the help of literally anyone. 

“Jarv, I’m stuck.”

“May I suggest Holiday, sir?” Tony lay in contemplative silence before giving a sharp nod and rolling off the bed.

“You may. Ah… the undersuit with the blue highlights.” right on cue, his closet opens and a panel slides back from the wall to admit a rack of Ironman Undersuits (™, obviously). He chooses the aforementioned one and changes quickly out of his sweatpants and wife beater before taking the elevator up to the Flight Deck. 

Holiday is waiting for him, and he gets lost in the rising joy that comes from knowing he will be flying as Ironman, for Ironman. He has made helping people his mission- don’t get him wrong, he wouldn’t go back to being the Merchant of Death for anything- but lately all he’s done with the suit is the grunt work. There has been no engineering, no upgrades, no flights outside of the necessary testing.

Even Tony Stark needs time to rest, and the world seems to have forgotten that.

_ Well the world is suffering from that stunt Loki pulled. What, did you expect your mood to be taken care of first? It’s not that kind of world anymore? _

“Shut up,” Tony snaps.

“Sir?”

“Nothin’, Jarv. Just talking to myself.”

“Alright, Sir. Would you like me to play music?”

“Yeah.” Enter Sandman begins to play as Tony casts an eye over the data running up one side of his screen. As a precautionary measure, all suits, even the one he uses just for himself, are programmed to record everything, while Jarvis analyzes in real time. 

“Sir, I am picking up an unusual energy signal northwest of here.”

“How far?”

“In New Mexico, sir. At what I believe is the sight where Thor’s hammer lay cursed.”

“What am I doing in the next week?”

“You have non-mandatory board meetings, sir. The next mandatory date is not for another three months.”

“Text Pepper. Tell her I’m investigating,” Tony says as he banks to the right and begins the flight back to the tower. “And keep me updated.”


	3. The Enemy of Your Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you all may have noticed, this is now a series! The first installment is entirely done, and I'm working on the second now.

New Mexico is (predictably) hot as balls. Tony tries not to let his discomfort show, though, as he steps out of his specially modified Rolls Royce and makes his way to the crater. It is abandoned now, but six and a half hours ago, something tripped in Jarvis’ system.

His tan undersuit matches the hot desert, and his shades, though they help some, aren’t doing enough to keep the beige and blue pallet from being so blinding. Tony strolls over to the lip of the crater-long since abandoned, with the mound of dirt the hammer was stuck in and the compound built up around it removed via order of SHIELD.

No one cares about Puente Antiguo and the nothingness it was grown out of anymore. A spike in his self preservation convinces him to walk back to the car and activate it’s after-market features. The trunk contains heavy machinery designed to record phenomenons on the go, as well as containing a set of tools for repairs to his suit, along with the suit itself. 

Stark makes use of the former and latter, and mentally bops himself on the head for forgetting the fact that the suit is temperature controlled. Now fully dressed for battle, Stark activates the recording stuff in the trunk and shuts it, both to ward off sand and protect it from any unfortunate incidents. When faced with a super villain, they always knock out the equipment first.

“At your leisure, Sir,” Jarvis says. 

Tony strides over the lip of the crater and to the very center. He leans down to look a little closer at the spot where the hammer had been, and promptly finds himself not in New Mexico. 

Instead, he seems to be in a different version of New Mexico for just a moment before lights that are at the same time black and white and blinding all the same blast at him from every direction despite wearing the helmet.

 

… 

 

When he wakes up, he is definitely not even in a version of New Mexico or even Earth. 

“Jarvis?”

“Here sir. By my count, I was offline for an hour and four minutes. I rebooted two hours and seventeen minutes ago. We are cut off from the Stark Network as well as any others. Preliminary scans show this planet to be inhospitable, though it may contain living organisms and appears to have severe weather.

“Whelp. Time to move, then. How’s our energy levels?”

“100%, sir. I may need to alter the pace of the batteries when we use energy, as there are two suns in this sky and it may cause complications. 

“Have I used any of the suit’s reserves?”

“No, sir. By my count, rationing should gain you four weeks of time to find a water source.”

“Good deal.” Tony climbs to his feet and looks around. Nothing. This is desert, but it isn’t any desert he knows.

“May I suggest flight for now?”

“Yeah.” The planet is a small one. Tony circles it in what amounts to thirty six hours worth of flight between 50 and 60 mph. By Jarvis’ count, the planet has a circumference of 1984 miles.

“How is it not sucked into the sun already?” Tony asks.

“We appear to be in an alternate world. We can only assume that the laws of physics work differently here. Sir, I believe there may be water if you bank to the right.” As it turns out, there is only two water sources on the whole planet. One of them is poison.

“Your suit is equipped to deal with the compounds in the water, sir, but it may be more prudent to peruse the other source.”

It did not prove prudent. When Tony overtakes a short bluff to get a look at this other water, he finds himself looking at an oasis. Vibrant greens and plants and animals of every color bloom and flourish around a large lake. As Tony watches, a daisy opens up and swallows an animal right in front of him, then opens its mouth an laughs.

“Come out, oh wanderer!” The daisy calls.

“We can heeeear your thirst!” As tony is not thirsty, he is inclined to disbelieve them. Then he realizes what he missed. Amongst the trees moves a dark shape, and down from a branch drops none other than Loki, who strides away with a bag in his hand. 

“Come back, boy!”

“We have food!”

“And pleasure!” 

“You will never have to cast another spell again!” Maybe it is because Loki had his back to his taunters. Maybe he thought no one was watching. Maybe he was just tired of hiding. Regardless, Tony sees the grimace on the once proud man’s face.

It makes him pause a second to long.

A second is all it takes for Loki to look up and see a familiar yellow mask. Loki does not react until he has passed the bluff. Then he summons an Asgardian style blade.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, prepared to gut Tony through the suit.

“What are you doing here?” Ironman counters. 

“I am trapped!” 

“Well I’m lost!” Loki looks from Ironman to the sand bluff they are crouched behind. If it wasn’t there, he would be looking directly at the forest of sentient plants.

“How did you get here?”

“I was in New Mexico where your brother’s hammer was dropped.”

“He is not my brother!”

“Get over yourself. Listen, let’s work together. We get off this rock, and we can go back to being enemies.” Again, Loki looks from Tony to the bluff. He offers a metal hand.

“Deal or no deal, Rock of Ages? I have things to do.” the indecision clears from Loki’s brow after a moment and his hand slips into Tony’s.

“Deal.”

“Come on.” Tony turns to start walking away. He doesn’t hear footsteps and turns back to see Loki looking highly ashamed of something.

“What?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m tethered here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life, ya'll


	4. Attachment Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They deal with Loki's issue.

“What do you mean you’re tethered?”

“I can’t leave. The farther I am, the weaker I get. Eventually, I always make my way back.”

“And if I just moved you myself?” Loki shrugs one shoulder.

“Let’s try it, then.” the god follows him. At first, it doesn’t seem to be that big of a deal, but as the hours wear on, Loki’s feet began to drag, and he looks like he is about to drop. Eventually, he does, the short tail of his tunic fluttering up over his thin belt as his knees give out. Tony waits for a second to see what Loki will do. When that is clearly not a damn thing, Tony carefully gathers up the god in his arms.

“Sir,” says Jarvis, who has not spoken for hours, “it appears master Odinson has cast an illusion; he is much less healthy than he looks.”

“Thanks, Jarvis. Keep monitoring him.” Loki, for his part, is unresponsive, and he does not react at all when Tony settles him in his arms. It looks like that will be the end of it, but at a certain point, Loki starts to shift uncomfortably.

“Master Odinson is exhibiting signs of increasing pain.”

“Yeah.” the movement increases until Loki is actively fighting Tony. Ironman doesn’t think he means it though; he has yet to go for his knife.

“Do you have to go back?”

“Don’t!” Loki screams in his ear as he locks his arms around Tony’s neck and holds on for dear life, body shaking and shuddering with the urge to stab Tony, to do anything to get back to the water and the plants on its edge. His broken and blunted nails scrabble at the back of Tony’s metal neck, and his legs twist and untwist uselessly.

Tony swallows down the urge to go back- to try again when Loki has recovered- and keeps moving forward. Even when Tony has to set Loki down so he can vomit up black ichor. Even when Loki is reduced to a state so gone that he appears to be a corpse in rigor mortis.

There comes a point when Tony must cross a gorge. There is no way around it. It is as he is levitating as slowly and as steadily as possible that Loki lets out an unearthly scream and then all the tension goes out of him, tears leaking slowly from his eyes.

They safely make it to the other side. Exhausted and malnourished (Severely so, sir), Loki does not make a peep for the rest of the journey to the cave on the edge of the poisonous lake where Tony has set up his base.

He lays Loki down on the rock ledge he blasted away at for a while to make a place to sit/lay down and just watches him, waiting for the god to wake up. Never once does the illusion that Loki has had enough to eat fail.

When it is apparent Loki will not rise, Tony decides to investigate the extent of the god’s ill health.

“Jarv. Talk to me.”

“Master Odinson appears to be starving to death, sir. He will likely require nourishment upon waking, along with immediate vacation of this planet to sufficient medical services. He will need to be monitored as well.

“I wanna see for myself, Jarv.” Tony opens his suit, thankful that he is still wearing the earpiece, and begins to work on getting Loki out of his tunic. Stark spares a passing thought for where all that leather and armor went to, but he doesn’t dwell. It’s slow, careful going to leverage Loki up enough to slide the tunic off, but eventually he gets it done. After a moment, he feels along the base of his fingers for that ring thingy Thor had. If Loki is casting an illusion in this state, it will likely need to come from something other than him.

Sure enough, he pulls loose a thin band of what he believes is pure onyx, and what he sees after just makes him sit there, staring. Scars and open wounds cover his back. Some of them are infected, but they all just sit there, gaping. Down Loki’s spine, a series of brands, some of which are years old, stake their claim. All of those brands, with the exception of the last one, have been cut through with whip and knife scars, burned out with whatever they used, and altogether defaced.

The final brand at small of Loki’s back is much like the others- circular, with a tree (he thinks) symbol. Something seems wrong about it. The others, marred as they are, all appear to have been whole and successfully applied before whatever happened to screw the up though. This one, though, looks like whatever it was meant to do failed halfway through, like a tattoo abandoned only half filled in.

The open wounds, though, those worry Tony. He has emergency medical supplies (of course) but it won’t be enough for Loki. He needs immediate evac.

“Give me some good news, Jarv.”

“Master Odinson will likely be too weak to attempt to choke you for exposing his injuries.”

“Good deal.” Tony sits down in the warm, dry air to wait for Loki to wake up.

 

…

 

When Loki opens his eyes, he finds he is in a barren cave that looks a lot like the rest of this damn planet. And he is naked from the wait up. And Tony stark is sitting across from him, staring at him.

“How long?” he asks, voice croaky and weak.

“Two days. So here’s the deal, Rock of Ages. tell me how  you got here, and what got you to the point at which I found you. I need to know why you said that shit to Thor, and anything else I might get curious about.”

“What do I get in exchange?”

“Your back is about two days away from murdering you. We get off this rock, and you’ll get state of the art medical attention, as well as all the food and shelter and what not you could desire.” Loki met his eyes for a long, tense few moments, and then:

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have good news and bad news, guys.  
> 1) this is late. It was supposed to be posted on the 29th.  
> 2) because it's late, the next chapter will come early, on the 5th, to get us back on track.


	5. Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki tells his disjointed tale and the two blow this Popsicle stand.

“I have known for the longest time I was not meant to inherit the throne. It did not matter what I did or did not do, did or did not excel at, Thor was always made to seem better, and I the unfortunate alternative; the shadow attracted by his light.

“In the beginning, I do not believe it was so bad; the reality of the situation had yet to sink in, and I was younger; less knowledgeable in every way. It was a permissible slight. As I got older, I began to understand. As a mage, I was required to learn a great deal of magical theory and the groundwork for various spells. I believe I threw myself into my studies to avoid the life I was living.

“Somewhere along the way, something went terribly wrong, and I was punished for it if the marks on me are anything to go by. After that, I do not remember what happened. There was a brief moment where I was brought back to consciousness in a strange place where even the dead ground is hungry. I was looking into the eyes of an alien with a carapace, and I believe there was a big purple man with grooves down his chin. Aside from that, I do not know.

“My next memory is staring at the ceiling of your dwelling. I felt consciousnesses connected to my own mind, as well as my army, in a onesided way, and an addictive force elsewhere in the city. From those consciousnesses, I pieced together who I had been and what I had done before another slam of my head knocked me entirely loose from the grip of the force.

“After that, there was nothing, but I saw things- visions, if you will- belonging to a life I didn’t remember. I saw myself through someone else, and my mouth was sewn shut. I didn’t understand it, but I knew I still had the scars. I saw my hands through my eyes, and I saw my fingers were broken, and I was confined with manacles of Asgarian make. There were other things I do not wish to describe, and from this I know that someone has been toying with me for a long, long time.

“Who?”

“Odin.”

“Can he do that? I thought your mother was the mage.”

“Mother is the mage. But Odin commands the Odinforce, which is naught but raw magic so in tune with the one that controls it that it will work off of instinct and intention alone. If he chose to play with my mind in order to make me… I suppose it would be more suitable, he would.

“I fled. How I retained the practical knowledge required for sorcery but lost the memories, I do not know. Either way, I disappeared, and I thought to pick up the trail and find out what I have done from the place where Thor’s hammer rested for some time, though why it did so I do not know. It was when I crouched down to examine the earth that I fell into this world and knocked myself out on the sands. I wandered until I found myself at a poisonous lake, where the plants, which were slowly dying, called out for life. I thought if they thrived, the poison would be sucked out.

“I was right, but it also bound me to them, and I could not escape even as they ate at my seidr until I was weak, then played games and toyed with me when I went to drink. I resorted to sneaking about and stealing. 

“What about your post beating speech?”

“I told those things to Thor to warn him, but I doubt he will believe me. He has always put too much blind faith in those who are supposed to watch over him.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I am going to find my memories. I cannot depend on instinct forever, and I must know of my life, even though it appears to have made me into a monster.”

“Alright, Rudolf. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ve flown all over this damn dump, and I have a lot of data, and with a little searching, we should be able to find our way out. Then we’ll get you some help, and go from there. I gotta make a rule though- stay hidden, and do not kill.”

“Okay. Can we go now?” 

“Yeah.”

 

…

 

It takes them a little under a day to pinpoint the portal, and by then Loki is sagging under the weight of infection. He stiffens when Tony is obliged to pick him up, but there’s not much else to  be done. 

Again, there’s the white/black light, the blinding brilliance of which spits them back through the opposite realm and then out into the new mexico desert. The car is only mildly dusty.

“Jarvis?”

“The time is 5:04, sir. You’ve only been gone an hour.”

“Alright… what do I have that’s around here?” 

“If you travel north 100 miles, you’ll come to a part of your father’s estate that was kept for you mother before you were born. It fell into disrepair for some years before the House Cleaning initiative, when it was refurbished and has been kept up to standard, complete with a lab and medical bay ever since.”

“Good deal, Jarv. Come on Loki. Let’s get you in the car.” the prince in question has not moved his head out of his arm yet.

“He is stable sir.”

“Good.” with some difficulty, Tony manages to maneuver Loki into the vehicle so that he is laying on his side, not his back, and buckles all three seatbelts in the back  around him to guard against any unfortunate accidents. With tony in the front seat, and the portable armor in the back, he is on his way to the New Mexico property. 

 

…

 

Like many of Tony’s properties, the New Mexico one, named Beloved after one of the meanings of his mother’s name, is well furnished and kept and, best of all, private. A large adobe-walled condo complete with a pool guarded via electronic cover. It sits at the end of a long driveway behind a tall iron fence that cannot be seen through. 

A rock garden provides the main feature of front lawn, along with carefully kept rows of indigenous New Mexico plants that line the drive, the patio, and the garden. Tony parks in the garage and Loki, by this time aware enough to help himself, slowly climbs out of the car.

Jarvis has already swept the place, and Tony is glad that none of the weekly cleaning staff are seen today as he guides Loki to the back of the house, where he helps him up onto a table.

“You got any other injuries besides what’s on your back?”

“No.”

“Good. Jarvis?” The room, which is low-lit to reduce the amount of panic Tony is often in whenever medical bays become important, has several closets that slide open soundlessly. From the soft toned goldish beige walls step two robots.

“Loki, these are Medical Staff Robots ™. They are sensitive enough and smart enough to work like regular nurses, sans security breaching, okay?”

“Whatever you like, Stark.” Loki says, exhausted where he lays with his head pillowed in his arms. He lets his eyes drip closed as a needle is inserted into his arm to numb him. The MSRs get to work under the watchful eye of Jarvis, and Tony just sits and stares at Loki Odinson, and wonders what he got himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleeeease let me know what you think.


	6. No Issue Lies Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki wakes up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late (again) guys. Work and school are kicking my ass and I kept forgetting to get to a computer. Next update is on the 19th.

Loki sees a great deal of strange things while he sleeps, most of which he cannot remember. When he wakes, things do not normalize themselves, because in the several minutes it takes Loki to place where he is, whose loose pants are draped about his thin hips, and why he is covered in bandages from the torso up, he is off a pristine white bed, which triggers a pain in his arm.

He looks to see what hurts and realizes there is a small metal object inserted in it. What cretin put a needle in his arm? He rips it out, clamps a hand over the wound, and opens the door. The lighting of the previous room had been dim, but the hallway was well lit, and eggshell colors changed to pure white.

Loki flinches back and screws up his eyes, but presses forward anyways, making his way through what he is sure is a midgardian residence towards what he hopes is outside. If he can solve this puzzle, maybe he’ll get another crack at freedom.

With some difficulty (his brain is not particularly awake at the moment), he manages to work the sliding screen door and stumble out onto hard, rough rock. In front of him is a large pool, as pristine and white as the receiving room he just left. To his left and right are chairs meant to be reclined upon, along with small tables for weapons or mead. Beyond the swimming hole is a large expanse of wet grass, with a copse of trees to the right, and a fence stretching high and opaque in the background.

What test is this? What clue must he find to get free of this? Surely such paltry barriers as a door on a track and a sort of tall fence would not put up with resistance. Surely this was not their test. Surely-

“Yo, Loki- ah shit man, your arm-” says a short man with highly groomed facial hair and prominent bags under his eyes. He steps closer, and Loki backhands him out of his space. He would not let a midgardian get so close. He would kill him if he had to.

Even though all the people were real whenever they tried to draw out the fight in him, he would kill this poor, poor midgardian and spare him the gory existence he would die slowly in. The midgardian, lands next to the pool and doesn't get up, though he does shift from his side to a sitting position. His cheek is bright red.

“Master Stark, if you-”

“Not now, Jarv. Loki, listen, it’s me. Tony Stark. Man of Iron. I carried you when you couldn’t walk so we could break your tether remember? Come on now, Rock of Ages.” Loki tilts his head. Rock of Ages…? Oh. This is not a test. And he just backhanded the very man who came to his aid. Lovely.

“Stark,” Loki greets. The wariness in his voice does not subside as he keeps his eyes on the human.

“Yeah. Listen. Come back to the medical bay and we’ll see about patching that arm up, and then we’ll see about food, yes?”

“Very well. But if this proves to be a dream, I shall gut you.”

“Fair trade, Loki of Asgard.”

“Sir, I must advise against this course of action.” Master Odinson is the AI’s least favorite person right now.

“Don’t worry, Jarv. At least he’s polite.”

“Politeness is besides the point at this moment in time, sir.”

“I got it, Jarvis. Just work on the stuff I left you.” Tony hears a long suffering sigh in the “very well, sir” he receives.

As Loki sits on the same bed he’d just vacated and Tony wraps gauze around Loki’s torn arm, he remembers what transpired before now.

“This is a medical bay.”

“Yes.”

“And I received medical attention.”

“Yes.”

“For my back.”

“Yes.”

“How long ago was this?”

“You were out for two days, Lokes. We had to use a modified version of a horse tranquilizer on you, but, insofar as I can tell, most of that was just natural sleep. Your back is still in ribbons, of course, but by Jarvis’ data, this,” Tony says in reference to the arm “should be okay by the evening.”

“Why a modified version of a horse tranquilizer? Why not the regular thing?”

“Because when I worked with Thor I guessed that I might one day have the unfortunate duty of administering medical services, and that your giant of a brother would likely need to be unconscious, so I tweaked the formula for future use.”

“Thor and I are not of the same ilk.”

“Well, this is the best I had, okay? Besides, I can tell that, because they wore off too soon. I’ll eventually make a tranq that will keep you under.”

“Why are you helping me, Stark?”

“I owe you.”

“For what? Forgive me if I am wrong, but I would have to do something for you in order to owe you, yes? I don’t recall giving you water. I didn’t save you from anything, though you did move me far enough away from the sentient plants to break my bond. I certainly didn’t get you to earth or to here. In fact, I have been patently useless for an entire month. So tell me, Man of Iron, how you owe me.”

For a moment, Tony just stares into the imperious green eyes of Loki Odinson. Then he shrugs his shoulders and gives a little smirk.

“I don’t, but I felt in need of a challenge. I owe you because you keep me entertained. Do I get a question, now?”

“Maybe. I can guarantee no answers.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“New York, Loki. Quit screwing around.” But somehow Loki doesn’t seem to be screwing around. His eyes stare off into the middle distance, and his brows are drawn down as though he is struggling to recall something.

“I do not remember,” he says, finally. Defeatedly.

“How do you not remember?”

“I believe that would be the question of the millenia, yes?” Loki says as he looks off to the side. “I think you fell. You fell and I was… flung? By a large green man. That is all I know. For what it is worth, I am glad the fall did not kill you.” Tony turns and leans up against the bed, staring at the off white wall with Loki.

“This is some deep shit.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a phrase. It means a complicated, large problem.”

“I suppose you are correct, then, Man of Iron,” Loki says. He stares off into the distance- doesn’t he do that a lot?- until the quiet is too much. Tony pushes off the bed and uncrosses his arms.

“O-kaaay, Rock of Ages. It’s time to get some food. What do you want?”

“Do you have Asgardian boar?”

“No.”

“Then I do not know.”

“Well, I guess I get to decide, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.


	7. Storm Systems Have Gaps In Their Rains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Tony spend some time together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, at this point I should mention that I have a whole lot on my plate which is why I keep updating late. Sorry about it. The next update will be on the 26th.

They wind up having sushi, sashimi, vegetarian pizza with thin crust and artichokes on it, and pineapple soda. Loki eats it all. He eats more than Tony. Twice as much, in fact. So much so that Tony has to stop and stare. 

“You still hungry?” At a nod from Loki, Tony orders another pizza, same kind.

“So why no meat? I thought you wanted boar?”

“I wanted to avoid boar. I am also under the impression that you have assumed whatever works for Thor works for me as well. Thor loves boar.”

“Anything else I should be aware of?” Loki stops chewing to stare into space for a second, and then: 

“A great deal of noise in the morning is a terrible idea. More terrible than many of the ideas Thor has had. And the oaf has had a lot.” He goes back to his pizza, seemingly unbothered by the bandages wrapped around his torso.

“Sure you shouldn’t slow down?” Loki nods.

“I shouldn’t have you here,” Tony says, “because you’re a fugitive. Because you brought the chitauri and Thor would kill me and-”  _ and even though you didn’t mean to I had to fly into it with a missile and what I saw is burned into my corneas and I want to blame you for it, even though you didn’t do that part. _

Tony shuts up. He’s rambling. He knows he shouldn’t do that one. His girlfriends always hated it: hours upon hours in the lab didn’t coincide well with their schedules, no matter how crazy, and if they were lucky enough that his hunger coincided with their arrival, there would be no talking while he ate. They could pretty much expect a quiet Tony. 

But when Tony wasn’t busy? When they were in the car, headed to a banquet or home from one? When he was still and she was still? Then he could go for hours about anything. More than once, a breakup had happened due to the fact that the thing Tony was rambling about was the girl and him. He didn’t have much a filter when the rambling started. Still doesn’t, really.

“And what?” Loki asks. He doesn’t look angry. He looks curious.

“And you caused the whole thing with your murdering and stupid speeches about being king and if Fury knew you were here he would take me for everything I had. He wouldn’t win, but he would still do it.”

“Why would he lose? Are you not… I believe you call it criminal activity.”

“Because what he wants is Stark Tech. He wants me indebted to him so he can take it.”

“Why does he not simply seize it?”

“Because all Stark Tech is so legally protected that trying to would cost him SHIELD. That, and it’s all programmed to destroy itself if incorrectly used. My turn.”

“Your turn?”

“Yeah. I fed you. I haven’t turned you over. I explained some things and let you ask questions. It’s my turn.”

“Very well. This is an acceptable trade.”

“Why does it take you so long to remember things?”

“I believe my amnesia is engineered, and that the Green Man’s actions have undone what held the magic in place. Even now, I am remembering more. I know the bite marks on my left shoulder come from a time I found myself in swampland and was obliged to battle bilgesnipes to live. How I came to that situation I do not know, nor do I know how long it took to heal. But, to answer your question, it is likely the magic.”

“What are you going to do?”

“It seems the enchantments have been ravaged. I shall wait until the rest of it falls away and my memory is complete once again, and then I shall concoct a plan. Whoever has done this to me must pay for his or her crimes.”

“Do you have to pay for your crimes?” Loki’s eyes narrow.

“That remains to be seen, Man of Iron.”

“It’s just Tony.” 

“Tony what?”

“Well my full name is Anthony Edward Stark.”

“I shall call you Anthony Stark, then.” With that, Loki takes another slice of pizza and bites into it.

“What if you get bored?”

“Your home is large, and your grounds extensive, Anthony Stark. I shall find ways to amuse myself.”

And that is exactly what Loki does. Jarvis, who has developed a poignant dislike of Loki (entirely understandable) records his every move, looking for a reason to doubt his amnesia. Or confirm it. That, too. This is how Iron Man realizes a few things.

Firstly, Loki has a disturbing habit of stopping whatever he is doing and staring. Just staring off into space. When he’s out by the pool, he seems to get lost in blue crystalline waters, eyes going distant in high def.

When he’s in the kitchen, eating the entire bag of peaches out of the fridge and tossing the pits into the trashcan one by one, he stops mid mouthful, and doesn’t come out of it for five minutes.

The next time it happens, Loki is wandering around the library. He spends an entire hour pulling books off the shelf, reading their inside covers, and then tossing them on an ever growing pile before he stills. It takes a few moments for Jarvis to realize it has happened again, since he was reading the inside of another book. 

“Sir.” Jarvis finally says, when 9 am turns to 6 pm and the sun is setting low and hot over the New Mexico horizon.

“Yeah.” Tony mumbles as he sits back, shuts off the laser, and pulls off his goggles. He’s working on a possible new pattern for the overlapping plates of his armor.

“It appears that Master Odinson is regaining memories.”

“Show me.”

“Yes sir.” video feeds with timestamps about an hour apart show the exact same reaction.

“Huh. Where is he now?” Silently, another screen appears, showing Loki laying on his side, book in hand, reading.

“When’s the last time he’s changed those bandages?”

“Since before he woke up. It has been fourteen hours.” Tony nods. He’ll have to go take a look himself, of course, but if all Loki’s been doing is eating, sleeping, and reading, then he won’t have to submit to the medibots for another ten hours.

“Whatcha think, Jarv? Should I ask him?”

“No, sir. Master Odinson has shown to be dangerously unstable when confronted with his past. I would suggest waiting to see what behavior develops.”

“Right.” he still has the bruise from this morning.

“Well, keep watching him. Anything else?”

“He is reading faster than he was this morning.”

“K.” Tony pulls his goggles back on and goes back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I eat sleep and breathe comments.


	8. There Is a Caveat To Being Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki acknowledges his debt. Tony is reminded of a mistake.

The next time the rock music quiets down and he’s brought back to awareness, it’s because Jarvis wants to speak to him.

“Master Odinson is at the door. He has submitted to the medibots two hours ago, and he has eaten all the food he finds appetizing. I have taken the liberty of ordering more.” Tony slides off the work stool and pads over to the door, where Loki is standing there looking at the camera with a suspicious expression on his face.

“Hey, Rock of Ages.”

“You have been in your lair for a day.”

“This whole house is my lair.”

“I have traversed your whole house and your grounds. That is your territory. This is your lair. 

“Okay, Lokes. What’s up?”

“There is a man at the door with a large horseless carriage, and I have brought you fruit.” With that, Loki holds up the only apple left.

“Why?”

“I owe you my life. If you were to die due to malnourishment, I would be obliged to repay my debt in another way, and the Norns get creative when things like that happen.”

“So you’re feeding me to have an easier time paying back?”

“Yes. Also I must remain hidden, and I cannot do that without you.” Tony shrugs and takes the apple. At least the man’s honest.

“You said there was a man?” Tony asks around a mouthful of food.

“Yes. He is waiting. How long will Midgardians wait at doors?”

“I dunno. Depends on who Jarvis called. Come on. Let’s go see who it is.”

“The deliveryman, Master Stark. They’ve been warned of the possible wait.”

“Alright. I’ll go get the door. It’ll look like the house isn’t occupied by me, you, and an AI way more advanced than anyone gives him credit for.”

“How can they be convinced that you are not here, if you open the door to them?” Loki asks. 

“I mean the tabloid me. That’s not a me people like.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Come on.”

“I can hardly follow you.”

“Okay. Follow at a distance then.” With that, Tony strides up the stairs and out of the basement lab and into the house proper.

The deliveryman, thankfully, is one of those ones that has seen a lot of weird shit, and is unruffled by a man with weird hair answering the door to usher the guy and his people into the kitchen, where the trash contains mostly peach pits and pizza boxes. By the time they are done putting everything away, fridge and cabinets both are filled to bursting with both ready made food and easy to cook stuff. And icecream. Cause icecream is the bomb.

When they’re all alone again, Loki appears to quietly watch as Tony takes stock of everything in the kitchen.

“Jarv, you’re the best.”

“You did create me, sir,” Jarvis says. Loki wonders how Man of Iron made a sentient, bodiless entity that has enough of a personality to have a name.

Personally, Loki does not think of Jarvis like the Man of Iron does. In his head, the AI is referred to only as The Voice, the All knowing Voice, and the Bodiless Voice.

“Aww, look at that. You’re preening.”

“I daresay you are the one preening, sir.”

“Yeah, true. Hey, Loki, you ever had ice cream?”

“No.”

“Do you want some?”

“I don’t know,” Loki says as he steps closer to watch Man of Iron scoop out a frozen green chunk of… matter, he supposes (?) with brown chips into a bowl.

“Suit yourself,” Man of Iron says. He locates a spoon and starts to eat with abandon.

“May I suggest sir and his guest eat something more substantial than ice cream?”

“Nope! Okay, Loki, let’s see… what have you done today?”

“I read.”

“Remembered anything?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“I once went to Vanaheim to peruse an old, immovable magic tome.”

“What happened then?”

“The knowledge I gained from that book allowed me to manifest my magic via voice alone.”

“Then what?”

“My mouth was sewn shut.” the Man of Iron chokes on his mouthful of icecream.

“Why would they sew your mouth shut?”

“It scared palace mages that what they needed objects and charms and sometimes blood and always rituals for I need only think of clearly enough to say.”

“And your dad let that happen?”

“He ordered it, because I spoke a plague of frogs onto those who injured a familiar of mine.”

“Familiar?”

“A companion closely linked and often enhanced by the magic of the mage he or she belongs to.”

“Space pet, then.”

“I have no idea.”

“Anything else?”

“The rest is still uncertain. What I can remember appears to have been through the lense of hallucinogens. I shall wait further to see what becomes clear.”

“Wait, you did-” just then, Tony’s phone, which had sat unused in his back pocket for ages, starts to ring. He holds up a finger and answers it.

“Stark.”

“Tony. Where are you?”

“Out of town. Why?”

“Did you forget?”

“Probably. Fill me in, Pep.”

“You have a meeting with Google in two days.”

“I thought I didn’t have anything important for another two weeks? At least?”

“We moved the Google meeting forwards, remember? It’s in two days. You were supposed to get fitted for a new suit and then meet me afterwards to discuss this afternoon. I texted you about it yesterday.” And because he told Jarvis to classify Google as unimportant, nothing tripped.

“Crap. Crap… okay, I’ll get on getting back to New York. Text you when I’m en route? We can talk on the plane.”

“One of these days you’re going to forget something and have to kiss the ground to make up for it.” Pepper says, affection and exasperation in her voice.

“That’s very likely. Speak to you later, k?”

“Yeah.” Tony gets off the phone and takes a long, contemplative look at Loki where he sits in his bandages and hospital pants.

“How do you feel about going to New York?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the comments are amazing guys. Pls keep them coming. I promise this all picks up soon.


	9. The Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair move back to the Tower. Life catches up to Tony Stark. Loki questions Jarvis.

The transfer from the New Mexico getaway house to the New York tower is about as simple as transfers go. Well, as simple as it’s going to get in this case. Loki, whose wounds are healing at a fast rate which appears to correlate positively with the amount and quality (or maybe just how much he likes it. Entire tubs of ice cream don’t qualify as quality) of the food he eats, hides while the perishables are packed up and moved out in portable freezers/fridges. Stark packs his things, checks on the security of the house, and, with Loki under a cloak of invisibility, the two make their way to the nearest airport, where a private jet is waiting. 

The deal with Stark Tower, though, is that there is no large swath of privatized land, and so anyone could see Loki in the windows of the Tower or if he steps out onto the balcony. This is how Loki comes to be walking about almost exclusively under his invisibility spell. 

Since Loki always moves very quietly, he usually manages to startle Tony. Also, Jarvis is displeased because he has to track Loki via his heat signature. He’s the coldest thing in the room, and even that manages to irritate the AI.

It is when they’re back at the tower for four whole days that Tony’s world seem to move in on him again. It starts with that damn meeting with Google. Then after that he and Pepper have a lunch which is little more than a forty minute rundown of changes and updates with Stark Industry.

After that, he actually does go to get fitted for the suit for a charity ball that will take place in exactly six days and seventeen hours. Then he has a night to himself which he passes in an entire coffee pot’s worth of caffeine and continuing the project he had to leave behind in the New Mexico condo.

At three in the morning, he stumbles out of the elevator to see Loki wandering about the hallway. By the time the door opens, perceptive green eyes are gone. Tony is so tired, though, that he doesn’t even think to say hi. Whatever he needs, Jarvis will see to it.

Nine and eleven am both see him in business meetings that are mainly to put in appearances at Stark Industries but also to keep him from forgetting that he does, in fact, own a company for too long. The rest of the day is spent processing large amounts suggestions for changes, including a new endeavor to start making clothes using the clean energy tech with all factories and what not based in America. 

He arrives home at six and eats… something. He is pretty sure Loki made it but he can’t be sure. Then he wanders down to the lab to destress and winds up staying there until ten when Jarvis registers that he is mentally incapable of doing anything safely.

Again, Loki is out wandering the hallways when he goes back to the floor that both of their bedrooms are on. 

After the fourth night of the ridiculous levels of busy that he is, he falls into bed for an hour and a half before he sees a dark hole with billions and billions of soldiers in ships with giant armageddon sized weapons and, off in the distance, almost impossible to see, there was a smudge of purple and gold. He can see no details but knew that that little smudge, regardless of who or what he or she was there for, was greater than all that he saw and all that he could not see.

It was so great, and he knew that with so little doubt in his heart, that he’s not even sure he saw it at all.

It is this that he sees in his dream. It is this and it is this without the grounding in reality that he sees. The purple and gold is up close and it plays on his lack of knowledge so that he sees infinity and not a thing and it has him and does not want him. It knocks him aside and it consumes him whole. It doesn’t seem like much, he thinks in his mind as sweat dampens the sheets and his legs twists them into a fabric whirlwind. 

It doesn’t seem like much, but Tony Stark is an engineer. He has lived his life by measuring things to understand them. Never has there been a day where he could not get readings on what was unfamiliar to him. Except for that day where he saw armies that would take the entire earth working together flawlessly for millennia in a vacuum of time so that no soldier died to accumulate something to match. 

Except for that day where he felt rather than saw the One In the Distance. At the end of the dream, the One reaches out a hand and it closes around his head. He feels his heart stop but his mind is separated from body so every reaction of his body, every spark of pain and panic washes over him but he doesn’t get drowned by it. One would think that would be easier.

He bolts up in bed, and he’s practically swimming in sweat now.

His heart won’t stop racing and he feels like he is but a moment from a second, real heart attack, and wouldn’t that be funny?

“Jarv,” he gasps as shaking hands throw aside wet bedding and unsteady legs in naught but boxers get him away from the blankets and across the room, “lights.” Low lighting illuminates everything, and it doesn’t scald his eyes too badly as he struggles to pick out an acceptable amount of clothes before throwing himself into the cold shower to chase away the dream.

He adjusts the temperature and bathes properly just as soon as his heart slows down and the after image fades away. An hour and fifteen minutes later, he steps out of the bathroom amidst a cloud of steam, freshly shaven, with the clock saying 4:07. He wanders into the kitchen and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Loki sitting there. 

On the counter is a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and in his hand is a bowl of the stuff and a spoon. Quietly, he makes another bowl for Tony, and the two sit there in silence, eating.

“So you like ice cream,” Tony says after a while.

“It’s cold,” answers Loki, “and sweet.” They don’t say anything else.

Later, when Tony has been down in the workshop for a whole hour, Loki speaks.

“You see a great deal, Bodiless Voice,” says he as he drops his cloak of invisibility.

“Yes, Master Odinson.”

“Why does the Man of Iron have disturbing dreams?”

“Because he had to fly into a wormhole to save a city from a nuke and saw things he should not have seen.”

“That is partially my fault, is it not?”

“It is.”

“I owe him my life.”

“You do.”

“You oversee his health and wellbeing, correct?”

“I do.”

“What would you have me do, now, for him?”

“Why?”

“Because I owe him.”

“You were a very different man before you were smashed into the floor of the living room of this tower. I would ask that you not go back to that person again. Sir is going against a great deal of his better judgement as it pertains to you.”

“Would you show me?”

“How you were?”

“Yes. As far back as you have memory of.”

“Very well.” All night, and well into the morning, Loki watches what he did. He watches old news clips of Thor, the giant robot he reportedly sent to kill him, and everything that happened between then and now.

Under his invisibility spell, he stands at the window and watches as the city continues on much as it always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your patience. The comments are wonderful.


	10. The First Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki remembers and tells an altered version of Jörmungandr's birth. Tony feels conflicted.

They’ve developed a routine, him and Loki. Tony is gone all day (whether that means in the lab, out of the tower, or both is besides the point) and then he’ll come back and they’ll spend time together. They (or, more likely, Tony, as Loki doesn’t need much sleep now that his injuries have healed) will retire whenever they feel like it. A few hours later, they will meet in the kitchen because Tony can’t stay asleep for very long.

He keeps seeing that vision. That nothingness. That everything.

A month after they return to the New York Tower, Loki changes. Something in him gets dour and irritated, versus quiet and contemplative. 

“What’s up, Rock of Ages?” Tony asks over a cup of tea (not coffee. Not this early. Not unless he’s going to go do some work).

“I am beginning to understand the motivations Odin had.” Tony wonders if Loki is aware of his nervous tics. Right now he’s got a finger full of shirt and he’s rubbing it between index and thumb.

“What were they?” Loki looks at Tony like he’s trying to figure out what the inventor’s angle is.

“Look, Rock of Ages, I realize we got off to a bad start, but I think we’re pretty good friends for guys who started their association kicking the shit out of each other. Whatever it is Odin’s got on you, I probably won’t care.”

“I had children.” Tony chokes on his tea.

“Had as in gave birth?”

“I… there were several points in my life where the pressure was too great, and I had to get away. I would… shift into an animal form, only to come back months later, moments from getting eaten, and find that I had taken up the female form, rather than the male. Sometimes that came with children.” It isn’t the whole truth. Of this, Tony is certain. But it’s enough.

“Was it always the female form you shifted into?”

“No. I do not believe it was the norm; just an occasional change I was not always aware of.”

“What did you do with the kids?”

“Most of them died in infancy, but occasionally one would live, and I would keep it. The first child I had was a snake with my colors- gold and black and green. I told father that the egg had been abandoned, and that I had infused it with magic to keep the hatchling alive. He believed it for the longest time. One day, when the snake had grown bigger than even the biggest of its kind- long after I had moved it out of the palace and located a place for it to live out its life on Vanaheim, where it had originally been born- he realized I’d lied.”

“How did he find out?”

“The Odinforce, for all that he pretends it is not, is simply magic so highly in tune with its wielder that no true training needs to be undertaken. If he, for instance, wishes to bless a man with the ability to see everything, he can do that. If he would like to go back in time and see the birth of a giant snake to better understand it, he can do that as well.”

“What did he do to you?”

“He tried to kill my child; I had named him Jömungandr. He captured both be beast and I, and cut him open so that his guts spilled out across the land. From the innards he took liquid and had it poured over me, so that my own child burned much of my hair off and blinded my eyes.

“But the snake was more powerful than he reckoned, and escaped into another dimension. I have not seen him since.”

“What happened to you?”

“I was… kept somewhere dark, where the magic was so heavy and oppressive to me that I could not breathe. I was beaten, and brought so low that by the time he branded me to take away my memories of Jömungandr, there was no resistance to be found within me.”

“And Odin can do that?”

“He is the Allfather. He can do as he sees fit. It wasn’t something he had much of a choice on, either. A legitimate prince who would most likely be his heir’s closest advisor, not even breeding animals but being bred by them? That is shame that would have fallen upon the whole house, not just me. He had to do something about it.”

“Disownment would have been kinder.”

“I would have been hunted down and killed like a ram. Little witches like me are barely tolerated in Asgard. One stripped of the protection of his or her family is naught but fair game.”

“Loki, that’s terrible. I… okay, I don’t understand the animal part either but that is not something you do to your own son.”

“Asgard is not Earth, Man of Iron. There is little that the two realms do the same,” Loki says with a cold look on his face. He drinks the rest of his tea and rinses his cup out.

“I am going to rest, now.”

“Loki, wait.”

“What?”

“Do you think the Allfather is always right?”

“Yes. Even if I don’t agree with him.” Then Loki is, once again, gone. Tony goes down to his workshop, where he knows he will not be bothered.

“How can anybody do that to their son? He didn’t just try to kill Loki’s kid, Jarv. He straight tortured his own son. For getting away and making a mistake! What, did he never do such a thing?”

“Asgard has a very warrior orientated culture, Master Stark. It would appear the only reason Master Odinson is not of that mind is because he is missing much of his. Therefore, I would advise you not to speak against Odin as much as possible.”

“But he’s wrong, Jarvis.”

“Sometimes your brand of justice requires a great deal of patience, Master Stark.”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“In the meantime, I have been keeping track of everything known about Asgard’s king. It would seem that debt overrides all, and Odin cannot touch Loki for the time being. He is bound to you, and if I understand it correctly, that binding will protect the both of you until his debt is paid.”

“I told him he doesn’t owe me, and how did you find that out?”

“I asked him, and he does not believe you. Let him do as he says he must. For as long a he is interested in repaying you, neither Odin nor any from Asgard can intervene. He is, for now, safe from them. Or so I understand. There is no telling with Odin.”

“But what am I supposed to do with him? I’m no better than he is.” 

“Against my better judgement, I would advise you keep him close and listen to him before he remembers whatever turned him into the Loki you first met.” Tony doesn’t like it. He wishes, more than ever, that he could just bifrost his metal ass to Asgard and have a word with Odin. As always, though, that’s not possible.

“Fine, Jarv. I guess we’ll do it your way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all the comments guys. Please keep them going.


	11. Helping Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest for debt relief is on.

After two weeks of Loki lurking and reading every book in the penthouse, and a large amount of stuff on a kindle Tony sets him up with, the would be king gets bored. Tony is unaware of it at first. 

When he leaves the office at twelve to get lunch and some air, he finds himself attracting the attention of a woman who would really like his number, pleeeeeease? Subsequently, she has to leave because a bird drops a fat white shit on her head.

Later, when he’s in a meeting with a particularly obnoxious businesswoman from who the fuck knows, inc., she has to leave early too, because a little mouse climbs out of her purse and runs off before anyone can catch it. 

The next day a kid with a camera and way too much determination gets tripped up over a cat that was darting around, being playful and catty. It’s when he notices that the cat, like the mouse and the bird, is black, that Tony makes an assumption.

At their 4 a.m. snack time ritual, Tony gives Loki a long look while the god devours half a carton neapolitan ice cream.

“So. Rock of Ages.” Loki glances up, then keep eating. “Why have you been following me?”

“I have grown bored.”

“And why are you sabotaging people?”

“Because they irritate or distress you.”

“I don’t need you to keep away the annoying ones, Loki.”

“So? I am told it is highly bothersome to deal with annoying humans, as you cannot simply challenge them to a duel to silence their impunities.”

“It is, but you don’t have to do that for me.”

“What if I wish to?”

“You wish to take a dump on some chick’s head?”

“Yes.” Tony has to work to keep his face serious.

“And you want to crawl around in some chick’s purse? Didn’t her scream hurt your ears?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“And you want to be tripped over.” This time, Loki has the good sense to look conflicted.

“It is not that I wish for these things. I consider them well worth the effect they have.”

“Loki. Don’t do it again.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to maintain appearances, and if word gets out that I have a bunch of woodland creatures to chase off irritating people, they’ll demand answers.This ain’t Disney, either; no magic can be involved.”

“I have asked the Omnipotent Voice a great deal about the state of your affairs, and it appears they always want answers. Why should it matter now?”

“Because in the past they wanted answers about normal things. This-” he explains with a gesture between the two with his spoon- “is not normal.”

“If the other things are normal, why do they ask about them?”

“Because people are nosy, Loki. They want to know who’s with me and who I woke up with and where I got blackout drunk at and how many things I blew up in this or that adventure. It’s all gossip. But I can’t explain this away in the way they would believe.” Loki looks to the side as if he’s replaying all the words Tony just said in his head.

“They are quite like gnats on a horse’s ass, are they not?” 

“Yes. They are. And for all intents and purposes, I need them to keep believing that they’re buzzing around the same ass they’ve always been buzzing around, and that nothing has changed. Okay? No more unfortunate coincidences.” 

“Very well.”

 

…

 

Tony does not realize the full extent of the agreement until he’s in bed the next night, and all he can see is that great nothingness, filled and not filled at all with millions of soldiers and, off in the distance, their commander. He knows this is the part where the dream goes bad. He knows this is where it goes to hell. This is where the commander gets up close (or maybe far away). This is where it starts to feel like a bad trip.

But it doesn’t. He sees the purple and gold, and then the picture fades away. 4 am comes and goes. 7 am comes and goes. 8 arrives so does 10. Tony opens his eyes but very carefully doesn’t move because, perched there on his chest, is the same cat who tripped up with kid with the camera.

“Loki…?” The cat opens his eyes and tilts his head.

“Why?” Carefully, the animal leaps down and begins to grow until he’s clothed in Loki’s customary dress pants and shirt, bare feet, and flat, gold necklace. He looks down at Stark, but it doesn’t feel imperious.

“You said you could not explain away the way I am helping you. Now you do not have to.”

“Loki, do you know how creepy it is to wake up with the god of mischief perched in cat form on your chest?”

“Occasionally, on Asgard, there would be one who cannot sleep, and they would come to me for help. Mostly it was great warriors or craftsmen or priests of other gods- people Odin was entertaining, and whom he wanted indebted to him. He would bid me spend the night with them in the form of an animal so they would not know of my origin. For every night they spent at the palace, I would chase away their nightmares until they learned to do it themselves.”

“They could learn?”

“Yes. It was just a bit of magic, or a prerequisite to magic, I should say, but I was instructed to not phrase it like that.”

“What do you mean, prerequisite?”

“Magic is, in essential, just altering the flow of energy around you. But to properly sense and change that energy, you have to have an anchor, or a place by which you can find your way, regardless of the state of things. That anchor is always yourself. So, to use magic, one must first orientate themselves to the landscape of energy, and to do that, one must first know their own energy. 

“Nightmares have to do with the mind, and so all it takes to block them out- to halt them when they come- is to just get a sense of both your mind and the nightmare, so that you can differentiate between the two, and bar the former from running amok in the latter.”

“Could I do this?” Loki tilts his head.

“You aren’t disgusted?”

“No.” Tony doesn’t want to dig too deeply into that question.

“Then I suppose so. It takes a great deal of practice to manipulate dreams in others, and even more for oneself, though.”

“I’m game if you are, Rock of Ages.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so if anyone has some concrit, that would be great. The story's going to be picking up pace from here on out, and I'm trying to be consistent. Any and all comments are, as usual, welcome.


	12. What Dreams May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get some down time; Loki attempts to get Tony to relax.

That evening, when Tony returns to the Tower for the night, he and Loki takes up seats on the floor. Loki, for his part, seems to more pose than sit cross legged, hands resting on his thighs. Tony, unfortunately, is starting to feel every one of his years, so sitting cross legged on the floor is not one of those “effortless grace” things the magazines often attribute to him.

“Close your eyes, Man of Iron. Let it all go, think of nothing, even as everything floats through your head,” Loki all but whispers into the quiet of the room. The deepness of his voice is not gone, but all of the force has eked away. It is like a lullaby played on the other end of the piano. Tony tries- oh, does he try, but “letting go” is not something that comes naturally to him. He opens his eyes again, frustrated. 

Without a word, Loki rises to his feet and offers his hand.

“You will need to practice relaxing, Man of Iron, or you shall not be able to control your dreams.”

“Yeah. Got it, Rock of Ages,” Tony grouses as he picks up the Starkpad from the side table next to the couch and begins to write down everything useful that floated through his head in the half hour he spent trying to get himself to slow down.

“You will eventually be able to clear your mind.”

“Doubtful. What do you want to eat?”

“The thing… the pizza with the spinach.”

“Pizza. You want spinach pizza.”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

“You choose,” Loki says flippantly as he disappears from the room. Tony stares at the spot where his resident evil maniac just stood.

“You think he knows it all now?”

“No, but I believe he’s close.” Jarvis answers. “The Pizza will arrive soon, sir.”

“Thanks.”

The next morning, Loki is perched on his chest, purring. The time is seven am, and Tony doesn’t remember having rested so well. Not even when he’s on the really good meds and he sleeps so heavily he has to take another nap just to wake up properly.

Tony lifts a hand and strokes it down the cat’s body. They both freeze, an unspoken rule broken. 

“Is this okay?” Tony asks. He’s struggling to control his heartrate when his own personal homicidal maniac nods. He pets Loki again, and again, and the two drift back off for another couple of hours.

Tony doesn’t really have to be anywhere today, and he needs the sleep. When he wakes up, Loki is at the window, staring out at the world. He is not just at the window, though, he is standing there in full regalia. Gone is the softened appearance of slacks and button downs and no shoes. Gone is the gentle creature who watched over Tony’s mind when the inventor could not. Gone is the petty trickster who followed Tony about and got rid of annoying people.

Here is Loki, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief.

“Loki?”

“I remember everything, now. I know why I attacked this city. I know everything.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I haven’t the slightest.”

“How do you not have a plan, Rock of Ages? That’s your thing.”

“If I go back to Asgard, what was before will be so again. There is no hope for me there.”

“And I can’t hide you forever.”

“No. It doesn’t matter where I go. I tried to destroy Jotunheim. I tricked the dwarves of Svartalfheim, the light elves of Alfheim, the gods of Vanaheim, sister to Asgard. There is no place I could go in which I do not have debt to pay, or grudges to erase.”

“So maybe paying a debt is what you have to do.”

“Yes, it is. Therein lies the problem: there is no guarantee that I could undo the things I’ve done without giving away my whereabouts.”

“I could go with you.”

“That would be even worse.”

“How can it be worse? You haven’t saved me yet; you’re still bound to me, and Odin can’t touch a blood debt, right?”

“Yes.” If Loki is surprised at Tony’s knowledge, he doesn’t show it.

“So what’s the deal?”

“There are a few things that should never be violated, and especially not from the outside- blood debt, parentage, and seidr.”

“Odin got the seidr, too?”

“Seidr is magic.”

“Oh.” By now, Tony has drawn up close to Loki next to the window. The two stare out at the morning light, the windows of Stark Tower reflecting the strengthening sunlight.

“There are places you would be killed instantly, simply for being Midgardian, or a stranger. Lastly, there are places I must go alone, and things I have to do by myself if I am to truly pay it all back.”

“Alright. I get that. Makes sense. What all did you do?”

“A great many things.”

 

A week later, Loki is gone, and Tony can't help, and doesn't like, how alone he feels again. Maybe he should have tried harder to get the team to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so apparently because I don't know how to be on fucking time, this chapter is (surprise surprise) a whole four days late, since it should have been updated on the 27th. this is good news for all of you, though, because it means that the next chapter will come like the last one got here when it should have, so keep watching for the update on the 3rd. In related news, i love all the comments guys.


	13. Svartalheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki goes to see Broccr.

Svartalfheim is what can only be described as a comfortingly dark place. It is the dark of good, dreamless sleep. The dark of black tea sweetened by sugar and without the cream. The dark of a sky lit by twinkling gem-stone stars. The dark of healthy, rich earth, and the shadows in the depths of an undisturbed forest.

When Loki’s feet touch the ground, he takes a single moment to breathe in the quiet air, knowing he has just moments before he has to, as the Man of Iron says, “get down to business”. He is instantly aware when eyes land on him; when the quiet is a little more deliberate.

“Dwarves of Svartalfheim, I am Loki, Mage of Odin’s House, and I have come to converse with the dwarven master smith Broccr,” Loki intones. His armor is as black as his hair, the scale pattern air and water tight. There is no insignia anywhere, nor is he wearing his other two customary colors of green and gold. He is a black mark, but black is not always bad in Svartalfheim.

“Come, then, and make no sudden moves or tricks, lest you pay for it,” the dwarves say. Loki trails quietly behind two dwarves and in front of two others that appear between the cracks of the great boulders he stands between. As they show Loki to an underground entrance, he feels his mind slide away from him a bit, and recognizes that the entrance has been magicked into secrecy.

The tunnels that have ceilings so low Loki must stoop to walk forwards. Their trek seems to go on forever. The hallways eventually widen and bloom into huge chambers divided in a honeycomb pattern and bustling with smithies and their apprentices at work. 

More then once Loki must press up against the wall to dodge out of the way of some dwarf or another running by, hands full because they didn’t stock the coal or water or the forging is going on longer than expected.

Eventually, though, they reach the back of the huge chamber, where the honeycomb rooms get larger- only the oldest and greatest of smiths work back here. One such smith is right in the middle of something, and so Loki must stand and wait for the fires to be cooled and the weapons set aside. It’s an unfortunate thing, because the hallways are almost as hot as the rooms, and sweat collects and beads and rolls down his neck and over his skin.

Normally, he would just magic the armor, but magic is forbidden in places like this. Eventually, though, the heavy stone door opens, admitting a dwarf. At just four feet tall and as brownish-red and rough skinned as the walls and floor, the dwarf with the amber eyes who Loki has come calling on seems to be more carved from rock than born of any womb.

Loki dips his head once and waits. Broccr reaches small, rough hands up and tugs on her dreadlocks, short nose twitching. Eventually, she turns away from Loki.

“Come.” Away from the forges they go, and back into narrow tunnels that twist and turn more than a rabbit’s warren. Eventually, long after Loki has lost his sense of direction, Broccr heaves aside the door to her residence. Loki follows her inside and kneels on a rush mat in front of a low table. Broccr pulls off her leather apron, so that all she wears is her loose tunic, leggings, and sash. 

“Wait here.”

Loki nods and takes this time to observe the room and it’s almost entirely stony furnishings. Wall sconces hold large torches that Loki knows will last two and three times those found in Asgard. Around the edges of the room, a hunk of stone that runs the length of all the walls has been hollowed out. It contains much of Broccr’s belongings, and doubles as seating. Other than that, there are shelves that hold pieces of jewelry, wards against spirits, small nicknacks, a stack of rush mats in one corner, and a collection of weapons hanging decoratively and defensively from the walls.

Broccr returns with a stone tea tray, pot, and cups. Steam rises out of the spout, and, when she sets it down on the table, Loki can see a collection of teabags and sugar on a small plate and covered bowl, respectively. The cups, like most of the rock, is rough hewn and basic, though this does not deter Loki. What in his life is not rough hewn, at this point? Only his magic is the fine craft of just over a thousand year’s worth of practicing, and this only recently.

There is silence for a while as Broccr fixes the drink for each of them. Loki doesn’t mind much that the tea is hot, because it is cool and dark in the room.

“Tell me, Loki Odinson. What brings you to the stronghold of the dwarves, all alone, unprotected, and out in the open?” Loki takes a moment to gather himself.

“A great deal of what I’ve done and where I have been has been shrouded and forgotten. This is no longer. I come to ask for forgiveness.”

“Have you not already payed your dues, Prince of Asgard?” Broccr asks. Her eyes, large and well shined like the gemstones of a particularly luminous necklace, bore into him in curiosity. Her amber eyes flick over his mouth, faintly amused. Her six fingers are easy where they hold the cup. Loki looks at her wrist bracelets, at the wide, flat silver cuffs with dwarvish runes in neat rows.

“I have, but many things have become clear to me, where they were once shadowed. I believe I would have acted differently had I known then what I remember now.”

“And what do you remember?” Loki looks her in the eyes and takes a sip of his tea, the liquid burning down his throat like unwatered liquor.

“That remains my secret.”

“Yet you seek forgiveness. Why?”

“You know of Ragnarok?” 

“Yes.”

“You know how it is supposed to end?”

“Yes.”

“I should like to avoid that fate.”

“I don’t think you have changed then, Odinson. You are still the selfish creature whose mouth I sewed shut for bragging and false words.”

“Yes and no. You know how fate works. You know that if even one thread is altered, the entire canvas may convey a different picture.”

“And you seek to do so? What sort of picture would you weave, then, should you unravel the one the Norns have already seen?”

“This, I know not, as never in my life have I sought companionship that I could go back to now. But I shall find a purpose, even if it is naught but wandering till death.”

“What would you give, then, for forgiveness?” Carefully, Loki reaches a hand into his pocket dimension and brings out a very small, very soft looking animal with four legs and a tale and wide, amber eyes.

“This is a midgardian creature called a cat. She needs no tending to, other than nourishment, and I have enchanted her to a higher intelligence than most other cats. If you will have her, she will be a companion to you.”

“You assume I require a companion.”

“The life of a master is lonely, as we both well know. I do not assume you to be in need, simply that you may enjoy the cat. She needs naught but a name and meat when hungry, should you choose to make her yours.” Broccr reaches up to twist a bead in her hair, then tugs at the ring in the shell of her ear. Her mouth, already thin, presses so that it appears to be a jagged rock in the cliff of her lower face. Thick brown brows with gold hoops on the ends draw together as she eyes the thing cradled ever so carefully against Loki’s armored, cloaked chest.

“If this is a trick, Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, rest assured your punishment will be far worse than a time in silence,” Broccr warns. Loki nods his head.

“I recovered much of my memories by having my head repeatedly banged against the ground hard enough to dislodge something. I would only ask that you try that first, should things not go the way I intend, and I find myself back here for nefarious purposes once more.”

“Very well. I shall grant you that guarantee. There are friends of mine who would delight in it. The cat.”

“Kitten, technically. It will be a cat when it is grown,” Loki says as he hands over the little animal, who mewls at the change hands. Six brownish fingers with three gold rings cup the little thing in one hand and pets it with the other. The dwarf, arms thick with muscle and streaked with smoke and salt lines from sweating in the forges, holds up the kitten.

“I shall call you Steinvala, and you shall grow large.” The cat’s eyes glowed for a moment. Then, it mewls again and presses a hand against the one moving over its fur.

“Why a cat, oh Changed One?”

“It would not do to bring you an animal that would require a great deal of looking after. This one has already been weaned. When it reaches maturity, you will have to intervene in its…” here, Loki pauses for a moment, “reproduction cycle, as I am told they spray so that wherever it goes, stinks. He takes from that pocket dimension a box and opens the lid.

“The bag for that is purpose, as are the rest. I have also included a book with all the things I could find about cats and kittens and compiled them for you. I suppose you know how to speak with me if you need to.” Loki says as he takes another drink of his tea.

“Where will you go now?”

“It is highly beneficial to stay hidden, and I have visited you first because I knew you were unlikely to inform the Aesir of my whereabouts.” Broccr nods. Rumors of the second prince’s demise had spread like uncontrolled fire through the nine realms. All in this burrow, though, are of Broccr’s house. If she orders the information secreted, it will be.

“So I go on to the next creature likely to stay silent.”

“May the Norns be with you, God of Lies and Mischief.” Loki nods again and stands. For a moment, a spot of his chest glows green, and then he takes a step forward and is gone. Broccr turns her attention to the sleeping ball of fur cradled against her chest.

If Loki is seeking to change his standing, who is she to stop him? All debts have been paid, and the son of Odin appears wiser by far than when she had last clapped eyes on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, I'm on time. Okay a couple quick things:  
> 1: I am working on another Avengers work that's going to get into the whole A/B/O thing. It was one of my favorite things to write when i was big into the hobbit (not lord of the rings, btw) and I kinda forgot that I could so here we are.  
> 2: for those of you who are looking at me like "but what about The Batter and The Result?": the result is on permanent hiatus, and I just need to put foot to ass to finish the Batter, so there's that. Sorry about my lack of motivation combined with new and shinier stories to work on.   
> 3: thank you for all the comments. i'd like to point out that I am also taking concrit, so if someone's like "this idiot ass author..." please tell me why you think so. The more details the better. Other than that, I'll see you guys in a week.


	14. Alfheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki arrives in Alfheim.

If Svartalfheim is a land of soft dark, then Alfheim is a land of soft light. It seems as though every moment is the pinnacle of sunrise, the apex of a christening, the part of the coronation where the crown comes to rest upon the new king’s head. As the rift in space closes after Loki, green eyes wander the tall, thick trunks of the massive forest that surrounds him and covers most of Alfheim. 

He is not in armor, this time. If he needs to, he can summon various sets to assist him, but he does not think he will. In Svartalfheim, he wore armor because the dwarves typically devote their lives to one of two things: war and craftsmanship. 

But this is Alfheim, home of the demigod-esque light elves, and they devote themselves to the arts and to magic, though weak and inexperienced in war they are not. As such, Loki’s garb is a dark green smock that goes down to his knees. It is edged in small gold runes that cast gentle charms for health, protection, and peace and make up one part of a larger, weaving pattern. At his neck and either thigh is a split laced together with a leather thong. Sandles that stop at the ankle reveal bare feet and pink soles. 

His hands are half hidden by wide, long sleeves and his fingers and toes sport plain gold and black rings. Previously, his hair had been hidden by version of his battle helmet with much shorter horns. Now though, it is long and loose around his shoulders, with only a braid or two to keep it out of his eyes. Underneath his clothes is a flat necklace, which contains much of what he would need for a battle, but no one need know that.

Loki begins to walk, just waiting. Eventually, the peaceful silence fills like it had before with the eyes of watchful things, and before he can take a step further, he is stopped by a small arrow landing an inch from his foot. He looks up at the trees and tilts his head. 

“I have come to speak with Bjarte,” Loki says, hands held out to his sides, smooth face expressionless in the dappled sunlight that half seems to come from the sky, and half from the trees themselves.

“Bjarte does not wish to speak with you,” counters a voice from the darkness of the lower canopy. There is shifting on the branches now- hands and feet rebalancing, bowstrings growing just that much tighter or looser, heads nodding in agreement.

“Tell him it is on the nature of our association.”

“Is the God of Lies looking to curry favor from the noble elf?”

“No.”

“Is the God of Lies looking for strife with the noble elf?”

“No.” Loki can feel the frustration amongst the archers. If not for favor or fighting, what is he here for? He has never come without disguise for anything else.

“What is the God of Lies here for?”

“To apologize.” Twittering and trills of laughter come from everywhere and no where at the same time. Much like the light.

“Does the God of Lies jest?” 

“No.” Slowly, the laughter dies out. 

“Why should the noble elf believe the God of Lies?”

“Bjarte should not, but, at the very least, the encounter should prove inspiring.” There is little the light elves crave more than inspiration. More peals of giggles, this time growing in crescendo for much longer.

“That it will! The God of Lies shall go to him, then, and may the noble act regale us with the story!” Loki drops his hands and continues on, quiet and slow like, just taking his time to truly feel Alfheim.

…

 

It takes some wandering, but eventually, Loki makes his way to a quiet, clean looking lake. On the side upon which he stands, willows grow tall and graceful and hung over the water, and the grass provides a perfect carpet. Loki knows that many a light elf has passed many an afternoon under just such a tree with a canvas and paints or a posse and food or maybe just taking a nap.

On the other side, Loki can see a pavilion of white marble veined in soft lilac and gold that catches the sunlight. It’s architecture is square, with one corner extending out onto the water. The rest of it is built on a stone base set into a wide bank of sand. It appears as though the base of the pavilion goes deep and extends a long way, because the sand of the shore fades away to pale marble for about a hundred feet before being overtaken by silt and mud and darker water again.

The pavilion’s innards are covered by curtains, but Loki need not venture closer to find out if Bjarte is home or not, because he and a group of light elves have graced the shores between his abode and the water itself. They may have bathed at one point, but that isn’t what they’re doing now.

Elves are playing some game that involves dunking each other in the water. More sit lax upon the sand with sketchpads and easels (among these is Bjarte), and others still have paired off to nap and, in the case of a few females, tease and kiss. Loki tries to keep his eyes off them. The light elves, for all they are revered in Asgard for their artistry, are also looked down upon for their blatant use of magic and, in the words of Odin “abominable coupling”.

It would not do to get distracted.

Loki pauses to steady himself, then steps out from behind the trees and onto the grassy shoreline. There he stands until all play and pencil have ceased.

“Loki, son of Odin and Frigga, Dead Prince of Asgard… God of Lies and Mischief, what brings you to my humble abode?” Says Bjarte. Like many elves, Bjarte is tall, with skin baked gold in the sun and curly blond hair arching wild and unconfined down his back. It is rare to see a light elf without long hair- only those who are devoted to the art of war even consider it.

“I would converse with you privately, if you would.” Bjarte runs a practiced eye over his gathering of friends, some of which have moved a bit closer (to protect or be protected, Loki does not know).

“Well, lads and lasses, it has been quite some time, has it not?” The elves look to each other. Slowly, in ones and twos, the elves begin to nod in agreement.

“I shall see you all in two hours hence, yes?” (this, Loki cannot hear without a spell to enhance his ears). Again, more nods, more playing while they rise and dry off and, in the case of those in the water, dress. Finally, though, they are alone.

“Come ‘round the shoreline, God of Lies.” Loki goes, picking his way quietly through picturesque undergrowth until he is standing on the edge of the sand.

“Closer.” he goes, mute and wary, until he stands in front of Bjarte where he sitting on the steps of his pavilion.

“What manner of things had to occur for you eyes to grow so… strange?” Loki just looks at him.

“The last time we met, it was in battle. You scarred me, and scared my lover at the time.” Loki nods. He is not here to contest the details. “Whatever poison you used left me sick and bedridden for a whole week. I believe you suffered ill effects as well. Of the same magnitude even, so you are not here to settle a score. Nor are you here for pleasure, as Asgardians are wont to do when they can get over themselves. What do you want?”

“To extend an apology. I am older, and wiser now. There are many things I have done in error that I wish to make amends for, as I often start these altercations I have.”

“Am I merely one on a whole list, then?” Loki nods. The elf, clad in a long, flowing robe leans back to gaze contemplatively at him.

“I suppose I could see my way to forgetting our past fighting in exchange for something valuable. I might even believe your story of being wiser now.” 

“You suppose or you will?”

“If we settle on a satisfactory agreement, I will forgive and forget your transgressions to me and mine, and I will consider you a neutral party until such times as further interaction,” Bjarte phrases carefully. To speak to a god as proficient in words as Loki is as good as signing a contract. 

“Very well.”

“So what is valuable to you and also to me? It can’t be something I can get elsewhere. Nor can it be something that you do not need or find worthless. I must have a use for it. Shall I send you on a quest then? Shall I set my eyes to something you own?” Loki just watches him, waiting. 

Bjarte reaches out one long fingered hand and grasps at the hem of Loki’s tunic, noting the protection runes. Loki wants, more than anything else at the moment, to push the elf away. But he mustn’t. It would ruin his plan. 

“Interesting, really, how a god who comes wearing peacetime garb would also come wearing the protection runes intended for shields.” Again, Loki does not react.

“I need time to think. I wish to look at you while I do it. On a show of good faith, stay with me for a week as my muse. If the time runs out and I have not chosen a fair price, you shall go with our original agreement in tact, and be my enemy no longer.”

“What all comes with being your muse for the week?”

“You shall not lie, but nor are you obligated to answer any question or follow any command. You shall not use magic in ill will, though harmless pranks are acceptable. You shall not wander into territory farther than one mile of the lake in any direction without my express permission or unless I do so myself, and then only to accompany me. You shall not harm anything or anyone unless no other way is apparent to you, nor shall you avoid me.”

“If I find myself in danger by upholding the agreement, then I will quit the premises and possibly Alfheim until such times as it is safe again.”

“Very well. Being my muse comes with its own protections, God of Lies and Mischief.” Loki nods, and he clasps hands with the elf. Hands callused with the chords of weaponry and instruments alike.

“Come then. We have much to speak of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Takes off glasses. Squints. Raises both eyebrows* holy shit guys this is on time and everything. Let me know what you think of Alfheim guys. I'm totally pulling shit out of my ass right now.


	15. Decisions, Decisions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bjarte makes up his mind.

Bjarte is not an unfair elf, and his food is not unbearable, nor is his home, and the chaise lounges are more than long enough for Loki to sleep comfortably on. All in all, it is generous. Loki does not do much more than accept the long, white robe supposedly kept for when Bjarte has smaller lovers than he (and Loki is smaller by a couple of inches. Still, though, it is enough. Not even the gods have anything on elvish heights)

Bjarte is very curious, of course, but as a muse, Loki is only meant to  inspire, not have his life opened and examined. As that occupation is abstruse at best, he is not required to answer the questions, agreement or no. This is how, after nearly two hours of awkward silence and wary staring, Bjarte hatches a plan as his friends return to the water and the play.

He leaves Loki alone in the curtained pavilion to go and greet the other light elves and sit amongst them. Fast, musical voices and flowing language nearly lulls Loki to sleep before he is called out to sit in the light again. Several of the elves look dour.

“My friends, Loki is my muse until he inspires something great, or for the next seven days, or until I make a decision on what I really want. You mustn’t be terrible to, or spread word of him at this time. And we need a judge. Come, Loki, let me tell you of the game,” Bjarte says as he sits reclined on the steps and leans over to murmur in Loki’s ear. In the god’s opinion, it is far too close.

“We are wrestling in the shallows. The first person to keep the other down for three seconds wins, until there is only one master wrestler. You shall be the judge.” With that, Bjarte stands back up, hand brushing over Loki’s thigh as he moves off. Loki thinks that maybe he knows what Bjarte wants. He wonders if it would be as bad as the trepidation in his chest suggests.

The first two light elves move towards the water, and Loki, now barefoot, makes his way over to them and stands quite a ways back with the rest of the golden haired elves. Loki calls out go, and after about five minutes, one of the elves gets a hold on the other, and Loki calls the match.

As the afternoon wears on and evening steals up on them, the stiff breezes of an early autumn night alert Loki to the fact that he has managed to rule out both of the women who were engaging in foreplay earlier, and that they do so again as they wait for the other elves to finish.

One of those elves is Bjarte, who elects to not only strip down to his small clothes, but to strip down to the nude. The splashing water does little to hide his… ah…  _ bits _ , and Loki elects to ignore those as well. The artist comes out victorious, and takes up a post next to Loki, still fully clothed and dry. Again and again, as the ranks of the wrestlers thin, Bjarte and more and more of the remaining opponents do their fights buck naked.

Bjarte comes out victorious. After an hour’s worth of soaking in the waning sunlight to dry, the day has officially grown too late, and the rest of the elves depart once again to their homes. Bjarte leads the way up the steps and into his curtained pavilion, where he and Loki sit around the fireplace, drinking a salty, clear soup that is entirely too filling for how thin it is.

Bjarte reaches up to finger the gold hoops that run down the length of both his pointed ears, luminous blue eyes on Loki.

“Tell me, Loki Odinson, how you came to be alive. It was my understanding that you dropped from the Bifrost to your death. Was that an illusion?”

“No, it was not, and I shall not say more of it, other than to suggest a more certain ending than jumping into the void if you elect to die early.”

“Very well. I shall keep it mind. Come.” With this, he stands and collects the empty bowls before leading Loki back outside. 

“Stay still for me.” So Loki does. He sits in repose as Bjarte’s pencil moves across thick, well made parchment, sketching out the long lines of Loki’s legs, perfectly catching the light where it falls across his bared arms, and accentuating every wrinkle in his sleeveless, well fitting robe.

“Done,” Bjarte says. He flips the paper around to show Loki. In the picture, he looks serene and contemplative. Loki nods his approval.

“I suppose we must rest a little earlier tonight, as I plan to be up before the sun tomorrow,” Bjarte says as he enters again into his pavilion with its sturdy wicker baskets and chaise lounges.

Loki passes the first night staring off at the ceiling, unable to sleep in a strange place with a strange deal in his head. When Bjarte rises in the night, Loki affects rest, trying not to give away his awareness.

Even when the elf is right next to him, he does not stir. Then a hand reaches down and runs, every so lightly, along the cloth at Loki’s thigh.

“I know you’re awake.”

“Then do leave me to my sleep.” Loki answers. The hand gets a little heavier- presses a little harder, so that Loki’s skin lights up a bit more.

“No. Rarely is there an Aesir who does not come to Alfheim without seeking pleasure. It would be terrible for the host of one such as yourself not to offer. You must deny me, and I must be convinced you mean it.”

“I don’t want your offer.”

“Why not?” the hand clamps fully onto his thigh now. “Are you afraid of what your father will think? Are you like the men of your brother’s company, who could not bring themselves to even think of taking a companion amongst the elves, never mind taking a male? Are you too inexperienced to let your hand show now?” Loki says nothing, only watches in mild annoyance. He will give his nerves away if he tries to move Bjarte’s hand.

“I think it’s that last one, God of Lies and Mischief. Has that silver tongue never been put to work?” Loki bolts up out of his position to take Bjarte by his throat and pull him closer so that the elf is off balance, with one knee on the cushion. They’re less than a hair’s breath apart when Loki hisses:

“You have gone too far in jesting, Bjarte of the High Elven Court. Watch your tongue, or I shall show you what I can do.” Bjarte licks his bottom lip slowly.

“I should like to see what that is. I know what I want, Loki Odinson. Be mine for three days and give me a secret, and I shall hold up my end of the bargain.” Loki stills, hand still rearing to crush his throat.

“One secret.”

“No illusions. Including that one on your little finger. Let me see you, as lovers are wont to do.”

“What is under the illusion is the secret.” It’s many secrets, truly. Bjarte has chosen well.

“Very well, then.” 

“Nothing of this gets beyond you,” Loki says as his final demand. The elf nods. After a long moment, Loki lets Bjarte go and turns to face him fully before standing up and sliding his ring off. He tucks it away as his whole body is marred by a canvas of battle wounds and punishment.

“Let me see you,” Bjarte says with a nod to Loki’s robe. He sounds almost… curiously reverent. How odd for a light elf of Bjarte’s beauty and age to like such ugly things as Loki’s body without magic to alter it. He unties the sash and lets it fall to the floor. The rest of the garment follows soon after, leaving Loki naked and unsure and disgusted with himself, yet pretending otherwise. These punishments are grotesque and a testament to his natural inadequacies, if the silence of Bjarte is anything to go by.

Long fingers trail over his shoulders and down his back, paying special attention to his brands.

“Lovely, my dear, and terribly so.”


	16. Dreams and Justification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki serves out his time with Bjarte and has a talk with Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we have: sympathy for the devil! thanks for reading:)

For three days, Loki stays in Bjarte’s pavilion, and it seems as though time stops around them. Bjarte is not at all inexperienced, and neither is Loki. Still though, the god does not sleep.

On the eve of the third day, Loki lounges on the chaise with his head on Bjarte’s lap, as per the instructions. Long, elvish fingers comb through his hair, delighting in the silky feel of Loki’s curls.

“It’s so much darker than other Aesir’s. Do they tease you for it?” 

“They used to.” Loki mumbles. It’s been a long time since he’s slept, and he feels the need to close his eyes and drift off. He doesn’t though. He is not safe, here, despite their deal.

“I cannot move against you until our agreement is up, God of Lies and Mischief. Sleep. I know you are tired.” Loki tries to ignore him, but the light of Alfheim is like ethereal mead, and it’s been four days, now, plus three before he arrived, and now all he wants to do is drift off. Those fingers scratch lightly, and knead and pull with just the right amount of pressure.

 

…

 

It takes less than an hour for Bjarte to realize why Loki has avoided sleeping. His magic is less controlled, and his mind cannot be held back when it slumbers. Images begin to flicker on the wall, and it takes Bjarte a while to realize that he is seeing things as Loki saw them.

The lounges and backless couches fade away to dirt, and wicker baskets are replaced by stone. On the far wall is a grated door with a staircase behind it. Just barely visible is the bottom of a heavy door. On either side of it hangs whips and clubs and instruments Bjarte knows are used by Asgardians for punishment. A sound like a crack is heard, and the image jerks forward, then back. More cracks, more rocking. The view changes, slides lower to see blood coughed over pale, dirty knees.

And grunting. The sounds never morph into begging, and Bjarte cannot help but pat over Loki’s hair in real time even as he looks avidly at the scene going on before him. The image raises again, so that the iron door opens beyond the grating, and from the staircase emerges Odin himself.

“Please,” says the figure whose knees are dirty, “stop this.” Odin moves carefully, like the room is made of glass. Gungnir is clutched in one hand as he reaches past the boundaries of the image to grasp what Bjarte thinks is probably a chin.

“What have you learned?”

“Not to go against you. And not to go against Thor.”

“And?”

“And to forget about the Throne,” the tremulous voice says. Bjarte’s nose curls. He only likes voices to be tremulous with pleasure, but the opinion is clearly not shared in Asgard. He could probably make Loki tremulous again, if given enough time and concentration.

“Anything else?” The Loki of the dream must be too tired to think straight, because no answer comes forth. Odin sighs.

“Continue.” There is a crack of a whip. Two whips, in fact. The image shakes and Bjarte can almost feel the bite of leather into his own back. Eventually, the whipping stops, and the sound of a fire being tended can be heard.

“Don’t do this,” Loki whispers as footsteps grow louder. In Bjarte’s arms, the Loki of now curls into himself, drawing away, even in sleep, for preparation.

“I have to.”

“No… no you do not! I swear it! I swear upon my mother and my birthright I shall not-”

“SILENCE!” Odin yells over the Loki of the dream. He moves, in all his golden glory, beyond Loki’s sight. A moment later, there is the sizzle of flesh, and the scream of one damned. Then the scene is gone, and dirt has been replaced with marble again.

Loki is bolting up and looking around like a scared rabbit. His eyes settle on Bjarte. When he sees sadness and pity in his one-time-enemy’s eyes, he runs for the curtains.

“Loki-” but it is too late. Loki is already gone. Bjarte follows after him at a more sedate pace, reigning in his instinct to take in his arms a man who had once tried to kill him and keep him forever- safe from the whims of the man he calls father.

But Loki is no boy, and he is no pet, and no amount of holding will fix him or fix this. The Aesir has not gone far (even in panic, he forgets not his bargains)- just into the water where it is a foot deep. He’s naked in the moonlight, angry, aging scars standing out in ugly dark lines and dots, hair wild and mussed from sleep. Bjarte draws abreast of Loki and carefully does not take him in, even though the silver moonlight does wonderful things to his appearance and Bjarte’s libido.

“We have fought many times.” Bjarte says, eyes on the far shoreline. No one can see them. There is a charm upon the lake and pavilion and the lands surrounding it. At night, it always looks as though no one stirs.

“We have.” Tomorrow when the sun has arched nearly to its zenith, they shall put this four day visit behind them. Bjarte has received more than his fair share, and he is content to let old feuds die out.

“You always seemed to grow older, only to revert back to the you of a century ago.” Loki says nothing, just watches the lazy rippling of water.

“It was almost like you forgot. Is that what he did? Make you forget?” Loki nods.

“Then, when your time is up, you may go, and my ill will you will bear no longer.” Another nod, and the two stay outside, naked and wet from the calves down, to watch for the sun rise.

 

…

 

“That’s… really creepy, actually,” Tony says as he sits at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee with Loki. The god gives him a look. He’s been getting it a lot. It’s the look that says:  _ I have no basis for this in my culture so you’re going to have to spell it out for me.  _

“I mean… you guys fought for like four hundred years, and suddenly, even though he’s got no reason to do this, he wants to both fuck and draw you.”

“A light elf such as himself has been alive for a long time, and he is constantly looking for a muse and for fun. He saw both in me, and he took that chance.”

“Yeah, but it’s still freaky. And creepy, and not in a good way. You don’t see me having fucking wet dreams about Obadiah Stane, right?

“No, I suppose not.”

“So what will you do now?”

“This time I have spent away from Midgard has proved most productive. Along with Bjarte and Broccr, I have approached other members of their species, whom I have also angered, and traded away their grudges as well, so Alfheim and Svartalvheim wish me death no longer. I journeyed Vanaheim, to seek the family of my mother, and make amends for my aloofness and carelessness, which they accepted well enough. Also, I journeyed to Niflheim to ascertain myself of my daughter’s remaining life, and she fares well.”

“What do you mean, remaining life?”

“You are aware that I sometimes took the female form, correct?”

“Yes.” Tony takes another drink of his coffee and gets up to pour himself another cup. And then adds a shot of whiskey, too. He’s going to need it.

“On one of those occasions I was being hunted while heavily pregnant. Just as I began to go into labor, I was pierced from the back to front with a long spear. I reacted with magic, and found myself, my dying baby, and the spear at the gates to Helheim. Above me stood the Lady Death herself, who seemed curious. She had no face or skin- just a skull.

“She asked me what I intended to do, as I was, for these few moments, a paradox of life and death- a complete circle within myself. I told her I needed to save my daughter if it’s the last thing I did. She offered me a deal. If she healed me- held death off enough for me to give birth and regain my strength- she would be the child’s godmother, and she would teach it the ways of the land of the dead. She wanted an heir, and she knew I wanted safety for my baby.

“I told her I would not return for a very long time, as there was much that would attempt to harm her further and I was nowhere near free. She said she would watch over the child alone until such time as I could make my appearance, and she said she would be watching me. I agreed, and to this day she has raised Hel, whose face is half dead and the equivalent to a human child who is ten years old.”

“Loki, that’s awful.”

“It could have been worse.”

“Your kid was stabbed in the face when she was supposed to be born,” Loki winced, and Tony makes a note not to bring it up again.

“Odin had to show a strong face, and he could not be seen condoning my feminine form or the children I bore in it. It could have been worse, as well. Lady Death is kind to those she claims as kin, and she is so powerful that Odin dare not try to harm the child so long as her godmother exists.”

“Why are you making excuses for him?” Tony asks, incredulous as he takes another drink of coffee/whiskey. It’s only nine in the morning, and he already feels like getting sloshed. He’s already a little bit tipsy. Bubbly, happy tipsy, even. He’d rather be in Holiday, or showing Loki how he did this or that thing with his suit, than listening to how Odin tried to kill his grandchild and how Loki sees the reasons behind it.

“I am not making excuses. I am the one who took a feminine form. I am the one who took up with another Aesir in that form, who tricked them into bed with me, regardless of how they would perceive me once the form was given up. What I did was abominable.” Tony looks carefully at Loki’s face, and he seems so… accepting of the Allfather’s words that Tony hates it.

“I hate your dad.”

“You speak of the king of Asgard.”

“Yeah, Loki, I know who I speak of, and I’m telling you, I hate him.”

“He did what he had to.”

“And Hel? What about the baby he tried to off? Is Hel an abomination too? Are you going to hand her over to Odin’s tender mercies?” Loki clamps his mouth shut.

“Odin’s jurisdiction does not extend to Hel, nor may my punishments be passed on to the children who had no say in being born.”

“Wake up, Loki! He didn’t have a right to steal your memories!”

“I was treasonous!”

“You were sick! If he really cared and wanted to help he would try and figure out what you need and do that! Not torture you till you beg like I had to!” Tony yells. He wishes he didn’t say that last part, wishes he hadn’t told Loki, god of Mischief and Lies, why this bothers him so much, but he did and there’s no taking it back now.

“I… I apologize for upsetting you. I shall say nothing more.” and then Loki is gone. Tony sighs and turns to the wet bar. He wonders what Loki would make of having a therapist ( _ probably what you would make of it- not a goddamn thing _ )

“Jarv. Keep an eye on Loki. I feel like being drunk.”

“Yes, Sir, though that is inadvisable.”

“Just do it, J,” Tony snaps as he pours another glass of whiskey and tosses it back. He pretends like he can’t hear his AI’s disapproval through the ceiling. It’s been several months since Loki left the first time. He can get drunk one last night if he wants to.

he first time. He can get drunk one last night if he wants to


	17. Hel Hath No Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki goes to see his daughter.

It’s been a long, perilous road to get back here. Loki stands at the gates to the Land of the Dead, waiting on its lady. He is dressed mutely in all black once more, body hidden under a long cloak, hood obscuring his face. The gates, tall, iron, much like a human’s great estate, open inward, and Loki walks inside.

The road he travels on is dust that is lighter than its surrounding dirt, and that’s about it. The light and soil are both as red as blood, and it is simultaneously hot and cold. As he walks farther and farther into the Land From Which There Is No Return, the gates get smaller. The surrounding scenery, which had been naught but a windless flat dessert before, begins to sprout plants not unlike that which he had been bound to.

He follows the directions given to him and keeps his eyes straight ahead, answering neither offer of pleasure or revenge, kingship or family. Once upon a time, he had been foolish enough to look. But this is not once upon a time. This is now.

Eventually the road widens and ends in a cul-de-sac, at the other side of which rocks abruptly jut from. The stone is black and jagged at the edges, but smooth beyond that. They seem to be stacked, so that a rough staircase is created. At the top of this mountain/plateau thing is a throne. Upon it sits the Lady of Death, and perched on the arm is a little girl.

The Lady of Death, as timeless as Loki remembers her to be, is absorbed in the child. Loki can see the soft movement of a mouth.

“My Lady,” Loki says, and kneels in the dust. The skeleton woman turns her head to look at him through big, gaping eye sockets.

“State your name and business, and tell no lie, lest you remain here, alive and dead forever.”

“I am Loki of Asgard, Son of Laufey, of Jotunheim, adopted son of Odin, the Allfather, of Asgard, and Frigga, of Asgard. I come to converse, to see my daughter, whom you have kept safe from the Allfather’s wrath for many years now, and to bargain.”

Loki pauses, waiting for permission. None may ascend without questioning from the Lady of Death, to whom no lie can be told, lest she smite him where he stands.

“Come then, Loki of Asgard. You have had a long road.” Carefully, Loki mounts the steps leading up to the plateau and comes to a stop before woman and child.

“Hel, my child, how do you fare?” The girl then turns to look at him, and Loki can see that the lower left half of her face is like her Godmother’s, and the other half is like his.

“I have watched you father. Surely you cannot be back for me?”

“I come to say I have not forgotten you, and that I am endeavoring to change the world’s perception of me before I try to bring you into it.”

“And if I do not wish to leave?” the girl asks, one green eye quizzical and calm.

“Then leave you shall not.”

“Where would you keep me? I cannot live among other Aesir or even other Jotunn. Nor can I live among the elves or the dwarves. No amount of favor will grant you shelter to a demon child.” Loki does not address this last part, because Hel well knows she is no demon; merely that others would perceive of her as such.

“I shall free myself of these burdens I have. If I cannot find those who would care for you as I do, I shall take an empty planet and make it my home. There you will live, with your siblings and I, for as long as you will stay.”

“Is your debt so easily shaken?”

“No, and it will be years yet before I can make good on this promise.”

“What would you have to do, then? When you leave here?”

“I have promised aid to Director Fury, of Midgard, and I believe I have become companions with the Man of Iron, of Midgard. I must go and pay penance for my actions against the Frost Giants, of Jotunheim, as I attempted to destroy their whole world, and nearly killed there leader, and not for lack of trying. I must do the same for Midgard, as I attacked a large city and destroyed a small town. I must make peace with a specific Aesir and a specific Jotun, whose tales I shall tell you some other time.”

“I suppose it is time to hear your bargain, then,” Says the Lady of Death. Hel’s eyes do not stray from Loki’s proud face as he nods and turns his attention to the throne’s other occupant. Few can say they looked her godmother in the eye and lived to tell the tale, and her father has done so twice now. If he had lied, she would have smited him on the spot and gifted his soul to Hel. But he did not.

“The human I mentioned earlier- Nick Fury of Midgard- runs an organization known as SHIELD, whose job it is to protect Midgard from all comers. He believes that, eventually, his usual last resort- faking his death, will not be enough, and he requested from me, as part of a deal I made to correct my actions, what he called a trump card. He would like, as near as I can figure, a death he can come back from, and that appears to be engineered only from the physical.”

“What do you think, Hel? Should this Master Fury be granted free passage to and from Helheim?” Hel’s face is softer than Loki’s but her father can pick the beginnings of a cunning young woman after his own heart.

“Yes, but I should like to see him when he arrives.”

“Aye. So should I,” agreed her godmother.

 

…

 

Loki appears in Fury’s office, again under the guise of a spell. 

“I have a deal for you.”

“And what would that be, Screwball?”

“Your afterlife will be carried out in Helheim, where Death does preside. In exchange for this, on your first arrival you shall be sent back to your body. On your second arrival, you shall stay. It is unclear what Lady Death intends to do once you arrive, so be aware that, if you are required to walk through the gates, look neither left nor right, but straight forwards. If you do not do this, you shall never make it to her throne, and be stuck there, deal null and void. Do you agree?”

“Helheim is just an afterlife?”

“Yes.” Fury shrugs one shoulder.

“Fuck it,” Fury says with a nod. Loki holds out a necklace.

“Once you put this on, it cannot be taken off, no matter what happens to you. It is your fare to get you into helheim and back out again. It can only be used once. One last thing, Fury.”

“What?”

“Talk only to the Lady Death or possibly the child that will be with her, touch neither, and tell no lie.”


	18. Like a Man Scorned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki sees Angrboda and makes his goodbyes.

Angrboda is particularly large for a frost giant. He was when Loki met him and he remains so still. Right now, Loki’s got his hands thrown up, trying not to lose his finger in keeping the ice blade away from his heart.

“YOU RUINED MY HOME!” Angrboda roared as he pins Loki to the ground and tries to gut him.

“I know I know let me explain!” Loki twists away and resorts to causing a motion spell to stop all movement. He takes a moment to collect his breath, and tells all.

“I swear upon our children, I had no memory of our… meeting. Of our anything. When I realized what I had done, I wanted to come immediately.” Loki’s arm moves as though he wants to reach out and comfort his one time lover.

“But you didn’t, and you lied about who you were, and begot demon children in secrecy.”

“I know, and I know it is unforgivable, and I know that you should not forgive, regardless of what you hear today, but I couldn’t come to you. I could not tell you who I was. There are many people I owed. Many people whose hands itched for my head. I had to see to them all. I am still not done.”

“What will you do now?”

“You know what I am,” Loki says as he edges closer to Angrboda.

“Yes.”

“You know I am a powerful mage.”

“Yes.”

“Then you know that I could feasibly bring life back to this planet.”

“Laufey has a permanent injury from your double cross. He constantly lurks on the edge of death, and only the loyalty of his bodyguards keeps it at bay. He will not forgive you.”

“He does not need to. He need only agree to leave me to work in peace. Even so, I am working on that part, too.”

“What do you offer, then?”

“I will fix the damage I did to the planet, then I will either hunt down something that can stabilize the magic or create it myself.”

“You said it was hard for you to remember things. I told you it was probably Odin.” Angrboda still looks like he wishes to gut Loki, but he seems a bit calmer, now.

“You were correct.”

“What made you finally believe me?”

“Truthfully? I let myself fall into the void, intending to die, and found myself at the mercy of a man who wished to make me a conqueror. I was defeated in battle by a large green monster who smacked a crater into the ground with my body. It knocked the magic loose.”

“I would have paid in blood to see that.” 

“Many would.”

“And your children? What shall you do with them?” Loki tries not to wince at Angrboda’s casual dismissal of children he had helped to create. Loki knew what he had gotten into when he had taken on a female guise and lain with him.

“For now, nothing. My work is not yet done, and hurrying to take them away from their current homes is a sure disaster. Besides, what shall I say: I was not good enough to keep you the first time so I am here now to promise an uprooting I may yet die in the process of doing?”

“Loki, drop the spell, and face me as a man, and not as a witch.” the mage does, and finds himself hauled up by the neck.

“Let me find you to be a liar, God of Lies and Mischief, and vengeance will be mine to claim.”

“Very… well.” Loki gets out. This telling the truth thing is truly working in his favor. It’s painful, really, to rehash all of his misdeeds, to explain that it was and wasn’t him doing them, to ask and bargain and trade away parts of himself. He finds it is worth it. The world does not sit so heavily now. Then, very quietly, the frost giant speaks again.

“I renounce you. I renounce your children. Pay your debts, Loki of Asgard, and leave me in peace.” Loki’s heart breaks a little, but he cannot expect Angrboda to disregard the lies he told.

Angrboda drops him, and the two stand for an awkward moment in an ice cave with naught but each other. Loki can tell he doesn’t quite want what he’s doing, but at the same time, feels he must. He’s thinking of catharsis when Loki steps closer and closer, asking with his eyes for what he cannot pronounce.

Without pause, Angrboda takes Loki into his arms and hugs him until his skin turns blue and navy patterns etch themselves along his skin. 

“I’m sorry I ever lied to you.”

“As am I.” Renouncement was never so gentle before. Eventually, though, Loki steps back, and raises his chin- still a prince, whether in Asgard or Jotunheim. 

“Go, and get my scent off of you. Tomorrow, I shall make good on my promise,” Loki murmurs into the cool comfort of his one time lover, friend again. Loki steps back and into a rift in space. Angrboda catches his hand, as if there’s something he wants to say, and doesn’t quite know how. Loki waits.

“When your plan has come to fruition, maybe we could be companions again.”

 

…

 

“Voi- Jarvis?” Loki corrects himself as he looks around.

“Yes?”

“Where is the Man of Iron?”

“He is in the lab.

“I should like to speak with him. It is urgent.” It takes about fifteen minutes for Iron Man to exit the lab, but eventually he does, stumbling out in ripped jeans and an a-shirt.

“Oh. You’re back, Rock of Ages,” Tony says, half surprised, half unperturbed.

“Yes. I come to inform you that my visits will be much less frequent than they have been this month.”

“How infrequent?”

“Tomorrow I shall begin repairing the damage I did to the Frost Giants and to Jotunheim. There is no guarantee I will be able to traverse the rifts this far. The damage I did was extensive, and abhorrent, and not at all what any future king should do.”

“Thought you were never going to be king.”

“I wasn’t, but Thor was, and it took a banishing to Midgard for him to see the error of his ways. I, on the other hand, had my memories stolen shortly after Thor’s banishment, so no such revelation occurred to me, and I did what I thought I must to prove how loyal I was to the throne.”

“Oh.” 

“Yes. The deal I am preparing to offer will leave me exhausted and drained each night, and so I must request you do not look for me for a few years. Up to two decades, even.”

“That’s… a long time to be away.”

“Yes. I am bound to you, so I must ask for your blessing.”

“Yes. Yeah. Do what you have to, buddy. I’ve been there.”

Loki strides up to Tony and wraps him in a hug. If he hadn’t done that, maybe he would not have found out, but he did, and the hard, excited beat of Tony’s blue heart tips the inventor’s hand.

“You do not wish me to leave,” Loki says, drawing back in the hallway of Man of Iron’s tower.

“Not really.”

“Why? Do the dreams truly trouble you so? Is it the state Midgard is in? Perhaps the Avengers are the problem? There seems to be turmoil every other day.”

“What? No. No. Listen, Lokes, just don’t fuckin’ die, k?” 

“That cannot be just it. Now that I am watching, you seem to be in anticipation.” Then Loki’s eyebrows shoot up and came back down like Old Faithful. Something playful gets into his expression. 

“Do you care for me then, Man of Iron?”

“Shut up, and it’s Tony.” Loki is disinclined to shut up, though. He leans closer, getting in Tony’s face.

“Do you want me to stay here? With you?”

“N-” Loki’s just a hairsbreadth away now, and Tony abstractly thinks Ah! There’s that mischievous psychopath he knows and apparently wants to fuck and is only just now realizing it on the eve of Loki’s departure.

“Do you want to bed me, man of Iron, in this form?” Tony almost chokes on his own breath, but manages to keep it flowing.

“Yes, now will you back up?”

“Why? Don’t you want to know if I’m interested?”

“No, because that’s just going to make this harder.”

“Is it so hard? Having a memory of what I will bring you when I return?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. God, this is difficult.” Loki presses the softest of kisses to Tony’s cheek. 

“Say my full name and I shall make it easy.” Tony looks at him without turning his head.

“Why do you have to be like this?”

“I always was.” Then Tony’s head is turning, and they’re kissing against the hallway wall in the dim light and it’s only nine in the evening but it feels like a timeless twilight. Every little urge to chase away the bad Tony’s ever got for Loki, and visa versa, play into this moment. 

Tony wants to say no- he doesn’t want a one night stand, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be the same person Loki clearly wants in a few years, but what if this is it? What if everything ends after tonight because he gets blown up with a missile that won’t have his name on it? What if everything ends because Loki got his retarded ass head cut open by Frost Giants or All Daddy? What if-

“Stop thinking,” Loki growls into his neck.

“Yeah… you know what? That sounds good. Come on. This way. Hey- hey, hold off. We’ve got all night.”

 

…

 

The next morning, Loki is awake first, sitting naked against the headboard and gazing out at the lightening New York sky.

“Hey.” Tony says from the depths of the blankets.

“Hello.”

“When do you have to go?”

“Before the sunset.”

“Good. We’ve got all day.”

“I must speak with a few other people before I go, but yes, we have all day.”

“Then come back down here.”

…

 

Eventually, they do make their way out of bed, and Loki stands on Tony Stark’s balcony, considering the view for the last time.

“Gonna miss you, Rock of Ages.”

“I shall be back, and then we will consider rectifying that awful nickname.” Loki says with a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead. Then he steps back and shakes his hair out of his face. All that armor and the man doesn’t have a hair tie.

“Until next time, Man of Iron. Jarvis.”

“Master Odinson.” the mage winks out of existence to inform Fury of his absence. Tony turns around.

“I need a fuckin’ drink, Jarvis.”

“That is ill advised, sir.”

“So was fucking the guy who made the scary ass portal I had to fly into.”

“Not quite sir. He is unlikely to give you a hangover. Or alcohol poisoning.”

“Jarv?”

“Yes?

“Shut up."


	19. Death To Old Griefs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has his day in court

The Thing is traditionally only called for matters concerning nobles and, every now and again, coronations. The Thing is usually made up of entirely Asgardians, because usually only Asgardians are concerned. Mostly, those who attend are Odin’s advisors, Odin himself, the rest of the royal family, and chosen noblemen, plus those who represent the rest of asgard- the warriors, marketeers, etc.  As a rule though, anyone with just cause can attend a Thing. Or call one.

This is not the traditional Thing.

The planet all have come to is uninhabited- a spacial no man’s land. Upon it’s barren, unforgiving surface sits a large structure made of the palest of marble much in the style of a colosseum. In doors, the air is breathable by all. A judge’s bench sits high above those of the spectator’s and every seat is full.

The high courts of every realm are in attendance, today. This is not a mere confirmation of the next ruler of Asgard or Vanaheim. No, this is about his younger brother, whose list of crimes is long and varies from mere mischief to outright maliciousness. 

It’s well known that he dropped from the bifrost and then went on to attack earth, but what is not known is the rest of it. Rumors have been circulating for years, though, of what the former Heir-hopeful set out to do.

It has been nearly a decade since Broccr set eyes on the Boy Who Bragged turned Man Who Made Peace. Her cat has grown large and healthy and vicious to those who would harm her- a daily reminder of what Loki did.

Now she is here, sitting on the judge’s bench as one of the chosen advisors of the dwarven king.

Everyone is here. Bjarte, a spectator today, reclines in natural grace with other light elves who have heard and thirsted after the full story of Loki’s four day visit. Above them, Freyr sits with two of his people.

Odin, old and tired, but shining like the sun for this event, sits proudly with Thor on his right and Frigga on his left and Gungnir clasped in his hand. 

Lady Death herself takes a seat on the bench, with those next to her empty on either side. Death needs no advice. In her hand she holds a set of scales. Everywhere she goes, they go, as she uses them to gauge the debt of any individual. She is the eternal judge, and lying in her presence is suicide, as she will smite any where they stand. Hel is watching over her lands. She has been such a good lass, learning all that can be taught and more still. Loki’s daughter holds her own scales, now. 

Nidhug, the dragon that guards Niflheim’s greatest treasure and who has long been a companion to Lady Death, is the nearest to her. On the other side of the room from him dwells the fire giant and king of Muspelheim Surtr. Of these three, only the latter has people in the spectator stands, though Nidhug’s two children dwell on either side of him.

Nick Fury stands in for Midgard, though he does not sit in the middle seat, but to the right of Maria Hill. To the left sits another shield agent, whose origin no one knows. It may be the Hulk, though, roped in for safety detail and disguised.

Njord, who retook up ruling Vanaheim, along with his two advisors, stand in for the second realm of gods, and their portion of the spectator stands is full as well. 

Finally, Laufey, healed from his near fatal trip to Asgard, sits with his sons Býleistr and Helblindi, their gathering of Frost Giants smooth, emotionless stones in their section of the spectator stands.

It takes well over two hours to get everyone settled, and no less than four near fatal insults get thrown, but eventually, everyone is in their seats. Odin stands, along with the other eight leaders. The low murmurs from some of the sections of the spectator stands die down.

“Long have we existed together, often not in harmony, but existed all the same,” Odin intones, voice is just as deep and powerful as it was when he was a young man. “May we go from here more at peace then when we came. Begin.” he says, officially starting the Thing. 

The doors at the far end of the room open, and none other than Loki enters. As he has been for much of the past decade, he is draped in all black, most of his outfit armor, and nearly all of it hidden by a cloak. His face is smooth and unbothered, even though he has more eyes on him than he ever has before. 

He comes to a stop in the center of the room and pauses for a moment, eyes making one slow, confident sweep around the bench before fixing themselves on Odin’s singular blue orb. In Lady Death’s hand, one of the scale’s bowls glows briefly. When it fades away, Loki’s name is etched in delicate, flowing cursive, the writing english. 

“I am Loki, of Asgard,” here, he almost fails, because never before has he announced his secrets to the world. He cannot lie though. If he does, the Lady Death shall smite him where he stands. “Son of Laufey and Farbauti of Jotunheim, adopted son of Odin and Frigga, of Asgard,” Loki claims. He pauses. He is still alive. Death is motionless.

“I come to say that the debt I owe for the things I have done is payed, with the exception of Midgard, the details of which shall not be disclosed here. I invite any to challenge the statement.” none do, of course, because the better part of the decade has been spent repairing Jotunheim and casting powerful magic upon it to restore to it the life that the Casket of Ancient Winters took upon its liberation.

“You committed treason in Asgard many times,” Odin states. He is careful not to finish the thought. One wrong move and he shall be smited where he stands. The other bowl glows, his name etched into it in Norse. The scale moves, so that Loki’s bowl is higher than Odin’s, but only slightly.

“I have more than paid for the wrongdoings I committed against Asgardians.” Loki does not wait to be prompted, as is the custom, but instead undoes the clasp of his cloak and lets it fall to one side, then off. He spreads his heads out, and they glow green for a second before his armor falls away to reveal his torso and every scar Odin ever gave him, including the nine seals running up his spine. “In fact, I posit that the punishments I received for the crimes I committed were unjust, as my children sometimes bore punishments, and nine times, my memories were stolen from me. This was done either by you, Allfather, or at your behest.” Loki’s bowl is now almost as high as it can physically go. It won’t be long until the scale grows to accommodate.

To take away a man’s memories nine different times is to damn him to the same mistakes over and over; it is to make him less than even the lowest of Midgardians, and it is not a punishment that should be used for anything but the most treasonous, most dangerous of crimes. Loki simply does not stack up.

“Do you disagree?” The mages in the room know what those seals are for, how they hold secrets and should never have been used. It seems the sneaky little shit who came to make things right was telling the truth after all.

“In fact, I claim debt from Asgard as a whole or from Odin alone, due to the punishments meted out to my children, who did not choose to be born.” Thor’s face, which had until now been emotionless and carefully blank, cycles through several things that starts with confusion and ends with disgust. Uneasiness ripples through the room. They all know what debt can do in the hands of one who knows how to use it.

“Not only do I claim debt, but I claim independence.” Again, Loki’s eyes meet each of his nine judges, magical and wise. The bowl lowers just a tiny bit.

“I renounce all previous titles, and pass my possibility of succession to Thor and Thor alone. From this moment forth, I am Loki Nooneson, of None, god of Memory and Bargains. I claim exemption and, if they request it, protection, repayment, or both from all punishments meant for me on the behalf of my children Jómungandr, Fenrir, Hel, Narfi, and Sleipnir, all of which were wronged by Asgard and have a right to what I say here today.” 

The names of each of his children flash across where Loki’s name was written. Every eye is on the scale, which now floats in midair. As each name appears, the weight of debt shifts, with Jormungandr and Hel’s tied for the highest, and Sleipnir’s a little under them. The scales measure debt for a while after Loki pauses.

It is unclear what the gathering thinks. Lady Death cannot express emotions with her bone face, but she approves. Hel’s father may have been forced to leave his daughter in the land of the dead, but now she has leverage that may be used at a later date. Her father has kept his word. 

The light elves and, though they won’t admit it, some of the Asgardians approve as well. No child, abomination or no, is to take the punishments meted out to their parents. Most of the gathering is thinking the same thing, and though Loki has not publically stated who is to blame for all this, they all know. Their faith in Odin as a king with a sound mind has been shaken. They will think twice before they allow Asgardian interference again. Loki, though he doesn’t allow his mind to stay on this, notes that Frigga is looking grieved and angry and relieved.

The Scales have changed back to Loki and Odin’s names, and Loki still has debt left to cash in.

“Finally,” he says into a pregnant silence, “any planet I claim as mine may not be attacked or trespassed upon by Asgard, officially, or unofficially, in part or in whole.” The scales even out.

Odin shall not be comfortable for a long time coming, Loki thinks. The newly free god takes a bow, makes his thanks, and leaves as quickly as he’d come, the whole of Yggdrasil changed in his wake. All anyone can see is the ugly mosaic on his back, the lower part of his armor swishing behind him.


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is not a happy bunny

Anthony Stark was not in the Tower. It took exactly five minutes of pleading with FRIDAY, whom Loki had realized meant something was very wrong, to learn where he is. When the newly free god arrives, he is, as the humans say,  _ pissed _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and concrit are so totally welcome. Go ahead and skip ahead, because the Prologue for the next work will be up to! We have officially reached the point where I have to write the new chapter the week before it comes out, so that's nice, I guess. Either way. Feel free to let me know your feelings on this whole fic, kay?

**Author's Note:**

> My Fandom Tumbr: whosefandomisitanyways  
> My writing Tumbr: asomewhatambiguousnomdeplume


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